It or ten. 



PRINTED BY LEVEY, ROBSON, AND FRANKLYN, 
Great New Street, Fetter Lane. 



Iowa: 



TALES OF NUKNBEKG 



FROM THE 



<®ll}tn 8Tfmt* 



AFTER A MS. OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 



translated from tljc (Pmuau 



AUGUST HAGEN. 



LONDON: 
JOHN CHAPMAN, 142 STRAND. 



MDCCCLI. 



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tft£l* 






<§sipfa£> ot s«*|tf%.**i*. -...^u.^^ii 



**«* allege 







PREFACE OF THE TRANSLATORS. 



?he attention of the Translators was 
attracted to this little work by its 
graphic description of the state of 
art and manners in one of the 
most renowned of the old* imperial cities of 
Germany, at the beginning of the sixteenth cen- 
tury. The burgher life of Niirnberg : the taste and 
opulence of her patrician merchants; the character 
and works of her most eminent native artists, es- 
pecially Albert Diirer ; the reverence and passion i 
for art which pervaded all classes of her citizens ; 
the poetical guild of the Master-singers, with Hans 
Sachs at their head ; the relations of the city with 
the empire ; and the large amount of mental ac- 
tivity and refinement which it discloses in one of 
the great trading-cities of Europe on the eye of 
the Reformation — are here very skilfully wrought 
into the incidents of a popular narrative, and set 






vi Preface. 

with remarkable vividness before the reader's eye. 
In the belief that others might find interest in 
the subject, and the work prove useful to such as 
love to explore the remains of mediseval wealth 
and greatness still subsisting in the old cities of 
South Germany, the following translation has been 
undertaken. 

As the title and introduction may possibly 
mislead some readers, it is right to state, on the 
authority of communications recently received 
from the author himself, at the present time a 
professor in the University of Konigsberg, what 
is the real character of his work, and from what 
sources the information contained in it is derived. 

Among the books transferred from Nurnberg 
to- Konigsberg, and deposited in the library at 
the foundation of the University, a volume was 
discovered by the author, when in search of in- 
formation respecting the history of art in Niirn- 
berg, containing the three printed works of Diirer, 
which he has described in his preface ; and in the 
same volume was a MS. sheet, apparently of the 
sixteenth century, and brought from Niirnberg, 
which he hoped might furnish him with curious 
and instructive materials in furtherance of his 



Preface, 



vn 



object. On examination, however, it was found 
to be nothing more than an extract of passages 
from the old poem of Teuerdank. It is therefore 
a very different thing from the Journal — ascribed 
in the preface to Heller, and said to occur in this 
same volume — which the author represents as the 
basis of the ensuing narrative. No such MS. as 
Heller's Journal exists, or ever has existed, in the 
University library at Konigsberg ; and the sheet 
actually found has no other connexion with the 
work now offered to the English reader, than that 
of havino' suo-o-ested the idea of it. How far a 
fiction of this character, and under such circum- 
stances, is wholly defensible, the literary con- 
science of the public must be left to decide. 

But the materials of the work are historical ; 
their form only is fictitious. The characters in- 
troduced are real ; and the principal events in 
which they are concerned, actually took place. 
Heller was a contemporary and correspondent of 
Durer's. The great artist's letters to him have 
been published among the Reliqiden von Albreclit 
DUrer (Xiirnberg, 1828) ; and from these letters 
several passages have been inserted word for word 
in the following tale. Dlirer's correspondence 



viii Preface, 

with Pirckheimer has also been published in the 
same collection ; and from this we learn, that the 
Bosenthalerin, too, is no fiction. Besides printed 
works illustrative of Diirer and his times, several 
of which were called forth by the Diirer Com- 
memoration Festival in 1828, the author has made 
use of a mass of MS. letters in the archives of 
Konigsberg, containing the correspondence of the 
Margrave Albert of Brandenburg with different 
artists, and especially with those of Nurnberg. 
From these various sources he has acquired that 
intimate familiarity with the characters and events 
of a remote period, and imbued his mind with 
that deep feeling of its inner life and pervading 
spirit, of which he has here presented us with 
the fruits. 

To preserve uniformity, and maintain a cer- 
tain antique character which distinguishes the 
original, the German mode of spelling proper 
names has been observed throughout ; and for 
the same reason, the prefixes Herr and Frau have 
been retained in preference to their English equi- 
valents. In some cases, this may have led to an 
appearance of affectation ; but it was thought bet- 
ter to adhere to the rule. 



Preface. 



IX 



The reader's indulgence is craved for the at- 
tempts at versification in this little volume. The 
lines in the original do not rise above the charac- 
ter of such popular rhymes as we may suppose to 
have been current in Germany in the sixteenth 
century, and have been introduced rather as illus- 
trations of manners than as specimens of poetry. 
As the metre of the original — often peculiar and 
elaborate, especially in the exercises of the Master- 
singers — has been imitated with as much close- 
ness as practicable throughout, it is feared that 
the English translation will read still more like 
doggrel than its German prototype. 



--ess*, 



Sefcuatetf 

WITH THE PROFOUNDEST RESPECT 

TO 

THE ALBRECHT DUBEB ASSOCIATION 

THE CONSERYATORIOI OF ANTIQUITIES 
IN THE CITY OF NDRNBERG. 



^Ap <W z±±s> %&p ^^s> ^±s ^ao Ol, kp ^W ::i AP ^A^^A^^V^^-^A^^W 7 



CONTEXTS. 



I. 

FIRST SOJOURN IX NURNRERG. 

CHAP. PAGE 

I. Entrance into Xiirnberg. St. Sebaldus-day . 17 
II. The remarkable Public Works of Art in Xiirn- 
berg 39 

III. The Artists Yischer, Krafft, and Lindenast . 59 

IV. Albrecht Diirer the Painter. The Picture of 

the Assumption of the Virgin ... 74 

V. Albrecht Diirer's Book of Recollections . 94 
VI. The Counsellor Wilibald Pirckheimer at 

Neunhof 117 

VII. Diirer's Pupils. Woodcuts to the Poem of 

Teuerdank 138 

VIII. The Sculptor Krafft in his Workshop . 170 



II. 

SECOND SOJOURN IN NURNRERG. 

I. The surly Shoemaker. The Herren-keller . 187 

II. The Red-smith Peter Vischer and his Sons . 207 

III. The Wood-carver Veit Stoss . . . 227 



xiv Contents. 



IV. The Emperor Maximilian I. The Triumphal 

Car, a fresco by Durer in the Townhall . 247 
V. The Cemetery of St. John, with the Sculptures 

of Adam KrafFt , . 267 

VI. The Singing- school of the Master- singers. 

Hans Sachs in the Tavern . . . .283 
VII. DUrer receives a visit from Thomas of Bo- 
logna, a pupil of Raphael . . . .311 
VIII. The Crowning of the Poet Pirckheimer. (Un- 
finished) . . .... .35 

CONCLUSION. 

A Letter from Pirckheimer, and a Postscript 
by the Author 367 




PART I. 

FIRST SOJOURN IN NURNBERG. 



r~ 







INTRODUCTION. 



BY THE EDITOR. 



y great-uncle Gottsched, who 
fled from his native city in 
the fear that he might have 
to exchange the curls of his 
ecclesiastical peruke for the queue of 
a grenadier, was wont to say : " Before 
Amsterdam arose, and Hamburg lifted 
up its head, Niimberg was the Venice of 
Germany." If we regard only its com- 
mercial and political prosperity, the judg- 
ment of this author, whom Pinkerton, 
as late as the year 1811, celebrates as 
the greatest critic of the Germans, can- 
not be disputed. But if we consider the 



Introduction. 



flourishing condition of the arts at that 
period, then may Niirnberg rather de- 
serve to be called the Florence of Ger- 
many ; a title which another native poet, 
of a different stamp, has adjudged to 
another German city. Though sepa- 
rate rays of art early dawned upon va- 
rious regions of Italy, these were united 
in Florence in a fountain of light, from 
which Fabriano and Sanzio, the foun- 
ders of the Venetian and Eoman schools, 
drew their illumination. Florence was 
the seminary of all the arts which, vying 
with each other, wreathed the fame of 
its magnanimous rulers with unfading 
crowns. In like manner did German 
art attain to similar dignity in Niirn- 
berg, through an active competition, 
which was fostered by a generous ex- 
penditure, and assumed a peculiar form 
under the regulations of its various 



Introduction. 



guilds.* After this flourishing period 
of Niirnberg, if we except the constant 
progress in architecture, we know of in- 
dividual artists indeed, but of no art in 
Germany. 

My attention was directed to the his- 
tory of art in Niirnberg by the discovery 
of a manuscript, which has appeared to 

* The comparison between the artistic life in 
Florence and in Niirnberg may also not unaptly be 
extended to individual artists of these two cities, 
as, for example, between Lionardo da Vinci and 
Albrecht Durer. Both, distinguished by an incom- 
parable dignity of bearing, applied not to one 
merely, but to several arts, and both were men 
acquainted with theory. Both made essays in 
poetry and the plastic art. Lionardo threw out 
bold architectural plans, and Durer shewed his 
knowledge of the art of building not merely by 
sketching designs for houses, but especially by his 
" Treatise on the Fortification of Castles." Both 
sought to develope the laws of perspective. We 
possess a work of Durer' s on " Fighting and 
Wrestling," and Lionardo designed a book of com- 



Introduction. 



me not unworthy of publication. It is 
from the hand of a Frankfurt merchant, 
Jacob Heller, who, having the advantage 
of some learning, but rather perhaps a 
lover of art than a connoisseur, resided 
for a considerable time in Niirnberg at 
the beginning of the sixteenth century, 
and noted down circumstantially what- 
ever he saw and heard whilst there of 
artists and their works. The manu- 

plete battles. Durer produced an elaborate work 
on " the Study of the Horse," and Lionardo on 
" the Anatomy and Figure of Horses." Moreover, 
the paintings of both bear a considerable resem- 
blance to each other. The earlier designs of Lio- 
nardo exhibit the slender forms, the long visages, 
the stiff gold- coloured hair, which we find in repre- 
sentations of saints of the oldest period. Mengs 
says of him, " His manner is somewhat dry ; there 
is an extreme finish in his pictures ; his colouring 
is rather too brown and red ; and the folds of his 
drapery are somewhat broken." The same obser- 
vation forces itself upon us in regard to Durer. 



Introduction. 



script is preserved in the University li- 
brary of this place. 

Among' the books which the Margrave 
Albrecht of Brandenburg, the founder 
of the University, presented to the li- 
brarv, occurs a folio containing writings 
of Diirer's. Albrecht probably obtained 
it through the well-known Lucas Cra- 
nach, to whom he wrote in the follow- 
ing terms : 

" It is our friendly request, that you 
would purchase for us, and forward as 
speedily as possible, all the new and 
good books worth reading which have 
recently come out in your city or else- 
where, and which you can procure/' 

In a letter of Cranach's, in which he 
complains that the money advanced by 
him for this purpose still remained un- 
paid after the lapse of years, the follow- 
ing words occur : 



Introduction. 



" I wrote to your Grace last Christ- 
mas concerning the books which I for- 
warded to your Grace." 

The folio alluded to contains the fol- 
lowing writings bound up together. 

1st. " Instructions in the Art of Men- 
suration with the Circle and Kuler, in 
Lines, Surfaces, and Solid Bodies, com- 
piled by Albrecht Durer, and printed 
with suitable figures, in the year 1525." 

2d. " Certain Directions for the For- 
tification of Cities, Castles, and Towns : 
printed at Niirnberg, 1527." 

3d. " Herein are contained four books 
on the Proportions of the Human Body, 
devised and written by Albrecht Diirer 
of Niirnberg, 1528." 

This folio was evidently at one time a 
valued treasure of Jacob Heller's (though 
after his death carelessly thrown among 
lumber), since in it I found the manu- 



Introduction. 



7 



script which I here give to the public. 
My wish to repair now, by its publica- 
tion, the wrong of more than three hun- 
dred years, during which it has lain 
unnoticed in the folio, injured not by 
use, but by the place where it w 7 as re- 
posited, has had to encounter not a few 
difficulties. There is a haste and care- 
lessness in its composition, evidenced by 
the want of neatness in the manuscript, 
which is indeed difficult to decipher, so 
that few readers would be tempted by 
its contents to undergo the toil of giving 
it a perusal. Scarcely a single sentence 
is completed ; many things are twice or 
even three times repeated, without any 
reason ; no where is visible an effort to 
preserve uniformity, least of all in the 
orthography ; as, for instance, the name 
of Pirckheimer, often as it occurs, is 
always differently spelled. Thus, the 



Introduction. 



manuscript appeared to me to demand 
what Diirer says in one of his letters : 
" Eead it according to the sense !" and 
I saw myself compelled to violate the 
duty of a conscientious editor. 

Meanwhile the improvements which 
I have allowed myself relate merely to 
the form, since I have carefully avoided 
substituting any foreign matter for the 
author's own, commenting on him, or 

even re-modelling his judgments on art, 

« 

however different these may be from 
present views. The antique style has 
been banished ; but I did not therefore 
wish to deprive the work of its antique 
character, and some pages of the origi- 
nal are given word for word. Still, as 
a whole, the book has been compressed 
and abbreviated, and in particular with 
regard to many letters which were added 
as vouchers, some have been altogether 



Introduction. 



omitted, and of others merely the con- 
tents have been given. Nothing is more 
difficult in innovations of this descrip- 
tion, than to observe the due limits — 
where to retain the old, and where to 
alter it. It is hoped, therefore, that the 
candid reader will excuse an inequality 
in the style which could hardly be 
avoided. 

THE EDITOR. 



Konigsberg, February 1829. 



PRELIMINARY STATEMENT 



BY THE AUTHOR^ 



JACOB HELLER. 




H t was in Passion-week, that I was 
kneeling before the altar of the 
Dominican Church in my native 
city of Frankfurt, and implor- 
ing of God the forgiveness of my sins. I 
knelt upon the stone which covered the 
grave of my deceased wife. "With tears in 
my eyes, I looked up at the altar-piece, 
which, as is usual on festival days, was ex- 
posed to view. The panels which enclose it, 
painted on both sides, represent the figures 
of saints in such perfection, that only after 
comparing them with the centre-piece could 
the eye turn away. Never did the look of 
the glorified Virgin, as she rises to heaven, 



12 



Preliminary Statement. 



free from the bonds of earthy amid a choir of 
lovely cherubs, fill me with a deeper sense 
of sadness and devotion. With no less yearn- 
ing and sorrow did I look towards her, than 
the company of Apostles who are represented 
in the lower part of the picture as assembled 
around her grave. 

Often had I regarded this work of art — 
which I myself had presented to the church 
— with love and admiration; but since the 
effect of the first impression, never had I felt 
myself so touched with its beauty as on this 
occasion. 

Whilst I was thus entirely given up to my 
emotions, some one plucked my sleeve, and 
I perceived my dear son, who had been de- 
spatched after me to the church. " What 
have you brought me, dear Willibald?" I 
asked. " A letter from Niirnberg," was his 
answer ; " a letter from my godfather, which 
you have been long expecting." As I stretched 
out my hand for the letter, with a kind feel- 
ing he held it back, and hesitated to give it 
up to me. I took it from him, and remarked 



Preliminary Statement. 13 



that the seal was black. Overcoming a slight 
shudder, I rapidly glanced over the letter, 
deeply moved at its contents. " Albrecht 
Diirer," I exclaimed, " thou art no longer 
a wanderer among mortals ! thou glorious 
and pious master, who hast so well expressed 
thy feelings in this Assumption of Mary ! 
It was in Passion-week that Art had to de- 
plore the death of Raphael Sanzio ; and it is 
in Passion-week also that thou, his friend, 
who even in thy death folio west his example, 
takest thy departure from us." 

I thought of the death of Albrecht, and of 
all the masters who, ten years before, on my 
second stay in Niirnberg, had given me such 
touching proofs of affection, and who were 
now no more. The Lord's-day was on this 
occasion more than ever only a celebration 
of delightful memories. " How long will it 
be," thought I, " ere I too shall have mea- 
sured the span of life, and be united with the 
friends who are gone before ! My purpose 
now be this, to leave a worthy legacy to those 
who are dear to me, — a legacy independent 



14 Preliminary Statement. 



of the uncertain riches of prosperity. In this 
desponding and unloving age, which will not 
smooth its brow at the touch of joy, let my 
legacy be the true confession that I have 
lived happily, and that man may still live 
happily on earth. To comfort, strengthen, 
and encourage the desponding, I am resolved 
to give a faithful and circumstantial account 
of the happiest days of my life." 

In confidential intercourse with the first 
artists and scholars that ever lived, sur- 
rounded by the most glorious works of art 
that have ever existed, Nurnberg opened to 
me a paradise on earth. Since I intend to 
record for my relatives and friends what I 
have often related to them on a cheerful 
evening after the toils of the day, I am still 
afraid, notwithstanding my purpose strictly 
to follow the truth, that I may here and there 
unintentionally have departed from it. For, 
as I keep no journal but that of my expenses, 
and only copied from writings what struck 
me as remarkable ; as, after my return home, 
I constantly received letters from the artists 



Preliminary Statement. 15 

of Niirnberg who were my friends ; as every 
one who brought me greetings thence was 
obliged to give me at table a particular ac- 
count of all that was occurring in the field of 
ar^ — it may happen that my memory some- 
times errs, and that I estimate the works of 
an artist by my value for the man ; that I do 
not always clearly distinguish earlier from 
later events ; and that I suppose I have seen 
with my own eyes what I only know from 
the report of others. He who has any plea- 
sure in hearing my narrative to the end, will 
overlook my imperfections ; and he who will 
lend me no ear, has no right to subject me to 
reproach. 



T — - _j : ---:T ■-.- r^^y rf^- ±_ ----- ■">"■ : --"T . > ; - = -: - -^ : - -- 



FIRST SOJOURN IN NURNBERG. 




CHAPTER I. 

ENTRANCE INTO NURNBERG. ST. SEBALDUS' DAY. 

err Hans Imhoff of Niirnberg 
was known to me as a good 
business-friend long before my 
marriage. He had often invited 
me to pay him a visit, that I might admire 
the wonders of the old imperial city, and 
become acquainted with the remarkable men 
then living there, more especially with Al- 
brecht Diirer, the prince of artists ; for he 
well knew my fondness both for art and' 
science. I had already given employment 
to many painters, and was negociating with 
Diirer himself for an altar-piece. As I had 
no ties of wife or children to detain me at 
home, and as I promised myself important 
business connexions from a journey to Niirn- 



1 8 Norica. 

berg, Augsburg, and Regensburg, I resolved 
so much the more readily to accept the in- 
vitation. 

It was at the end of July when I stept 
into my travelling-wagon, and without delay 
pressed on to my destination. For I do not 
approve of hunting after sights right and 
left on a journey ; because, to see any thing 
thoroughly requires repose, and this is in- 
consistent with quick travelling. Already at 
Erlangen, I saw the towers of the Pegnitz- 
stadt* glittering in the horizon, and hoped 
in another hour to enter its gates. What 
at this point could be more vexatious to me 
than the following accident ? One of my 
pair of black horses, plagued with the heat 
and the flies, flung out and struck the coach- 
man just as he was mounting the box. He 
fell to the ground, never, as he thought, to 
rise again. The case, however, was not so 
bad as that ; though it was bad enough, since 
I was compelled to give up the pleasure of 

* The city of the Pegnitz, — the river on which Niirn- 
berg stands. 



Accident at Erlangen. 19 

going farther with him. I ordered the 
wounded man to be carried immediately 
into the inn, and commended him strictly 
to the care of the host. I then besought 
him to provide me with a clever driver, who 
would take me to Niirnberg^ and who was 
well acquainted with the place. There I 
intended to remain till my own coachman 
could resume his duties. The host imme- 
diately introduced to me a trusty person who 
was just come in from Niirnberg, and who 
would be very happy to drive me thither, 
as he would otherwise have to sro back on 
foot. This was just what I wanted, and I 
felt how constantly some unexpected good 
turns up as a compensation to him who 
quickly sets about remedying a misfortune. 
I asked the driver, who wore a blue smock, 
if he could find the house of Herr Hans 
Imhoff. " Yes, with my eyes blindfolded," 
was his reply. Scarcely had a quarter of an 
hour elapsed, when I was again seated in my 
wagon, and observed with satisfaction that 
my driver understood his business, and was, 



20 Norica. 

moreover, a very shrewd fellow. So when 
he perceived that I was pleased with him, 
he quickly made me acquainted with every 
particular concerning himself, his dwelling, 
and his ancestors. I listened to him pa- 
tiently, since no other subject of conversa- 
tion just then offered itself. The towers of 
Niirnberg constantly stood out clearer in the 
blue distance, and the first object which ar- 
rested my eye was the wall of an old fortress, 
with outworks and watch-towers. I inquired 
concerning these objects, and he gave me the 
following account. 

" Honoured sir, the greyest head in the 
city is not so grey as this wall, nor did any 
one now living see it rise. It has come down 
to us from the infernal days of heathendom. 
That thick round tower was built by the 
Emperor Nero. There was a devil for you ! 
Nebuchadnezzar contented himself with hay, 
but Nero sucked nothing but pure human 
blood. There he sat on the watch-tower, 
like a crow upon the house-top, looking all 
around for his prey. Because he led this 



Approach to Nilmber g. 21 

wicked life here, the rock on which the 
tower stands was called Nero-berg;* and 
this is the true name of Niirnberg. And 
now the Emperor resides there, when he 
comes to us from Vienna — I mean, in the 
castle close by ; but he does not go on in 
this way. That square tower with the four 
projecting windows there is the Lug -ins - 
Land,f which has already for many a goodly 
year overlooked the country, and may for 
many more, without being tired of looking." 
In the meantime we had approached pretty 
near the city, and so much the more impa- 
tient was I, when my coachman stopped. 
And yet I did not like to object. He went 
to the horses, stroked down their manes, un- 
loosed their tails, and made them as clean 
as at that moment was possible. Then came 
his own turn. He combed his hair smooth 
with a great comb which he carried with 
him, then drew off his blue smock, and 
equipped himself in a better garb. 

* Nero's rock. f View over the country. 



22 None a. 

" Do all the Niirnbergers make such a 
point of neatness when they go into the 
city ?" I asked, a little impatiently. " Yes," 
he replied ; " to-day no one would do other- 
wise, since then what would my lord Se- 
baldus say?" When he perceived that I 
knew nothing of this lord, he continued thus. 
" He is the first person in all Niirnberg ; 
even when the Emperor Maximilian stays 
with us, he is of little importance compared 
with him. The palace of the emperor is 
great, but his is still greater. Do you see 
the church with the two towers there above 
the red roof? There dwells the holy Se- 
baldus. It is but little inferior to the Lo- 
renz church, which has also two towers, but 
which lies farther orf. Ay, you might tra- 
vel far before you would find a minster like 
that of St. Lorenz. Yet, as I am a true 
man, to-day St. Sebaldus's church out-tops 
them all — and rightly too, for to-day is the 
19th of August, and the festal day of St. 
Sebaldus. The saint cannot fail to work 
some wonders." 



St. Sebaldus. 23 



The coachman now remounted the box, 
and urged forward his horses. In his desire 
to tell me of the wonderful deeds of St. Se- 
baldus, he would not for a long time drive 
in, and kept repeating to me : " To-day is 
his festal day. There you will see life for 
once — jubilee and rejoicing indeed! Ay, 
he who has never had time to rest, to-day 
will sit quietly with his hands on his knees ; 
and he who cannot move a foot for age, will 
to-day vie with the youngest in the dance ; 
he who has lived the whole year on bread 
and salt, will not go to-day without his roast. 
If you would know, then, who is the first 
patron -saint of Nvirnberg, I will tell you 
truly fine things of him. You will perhaps 
call them lies, and think they are but bath- 
stories;* but, believe me, it is all written 
down as I tell you. 

" In the time of the Emperor Constantine, 



* The baths, which were formerly much frequented at 
Niirnberg, had an ill name for the lies that were hatched 
there. " That comes from the bath," was a proverbial 
expression for a lie. 



24 Norica, 

there lived in Denmark a god-fearing king, 
and his queen was so too. For a long time 
they had prayed for children in vain, and had 
made a vow, that if ever they should have one, 
they would bring it up for a paragon of every 
virtue. And in truth, when their son Sebal- 
dus was born to them, they spared on him 
neither labour nor expense. At the age of 
fifteen, they sent him to the University of 
Paris, and there he soon knew by heart and 
understood the sense of all sacred learning, so 
that he put the doctors themselves to shame. 
He returned to his parents, pure in his life, 
and full of superhuman wisdom. And when 
they proposed to him to marry, he shewed 
that amidst all the fame which he had ac- 
quired abroad, he had not forgotten the obe- 
dience of a son. With great simplicity he 
asked what maiden he should marry ; since 
their will would be his choice. 

"Whilst his parents were taking it into con- 
sideration, it so happened, that a swallow flew 
by with a lock of woman's hair in its bill ; 
and, as is common with these birds, passed to 



Legend of St. Sebaldus. 25 

and fro several times, and at length laid the 
hair at the feet of the young man. They all 
thought this a divine appointment, and that 
the woman to whom this hair belonged was 
destined to be his wife. The young lord Se- 
baldus was as handsome and manly as he was 
rich and noble ; and so it happened that the 
maidens far and near, whose hair was of simi- 
lar brown colour with this single lock, strove 
to prove their right to it, as an invaluable 
treasure. There was not one who had not 
her little tale to tell, how she had lost this 
hair, and how she alone deserved the prefer- 
ence before all her rivals. Among them also 
was many a wanton damsel, who ventured 
to approach the pious lord Sebaldus. How 
all the people in the city, ay, indeed in all 
Denmark, stared, when he made choice of the 
most wanton of them all ! She was one from 
Paris. His parents were ready to expire with 
vexation, but the hair matched, and Sebaldus 
thought himself happy to be so early called 
to convert a sinner from the error of her ways. 
The business of conversion was difficult, and 



26 Norica. 

would never have been accomplished, had 
not his chosen one, notwithstanding her levity 
in other respects, conceived a decided affec- 
tion for him. Instead of joking, toying, and 
dancing, she was now seen only to weep and 
pray, and mortify herself. Once and again 
he bound her by an oath never to give her 
love to any other man besides himself. And 
now, when a pious penitent had grown out 
of a light-minded worldling, the day for the 
nuptials was fixed. The wedding — it was 
a genuine mourning feast! When all the 
guests had departed, and the newly-married 
pair were alone, the lord Sebaldus admonished 
her as was his custom, made her once more 
swear eternal fidelity to him, and then repre- 
sented to her, how a marriage had nothing 
criminal in it, but how a holy marriage was, 
of all relations on the earth, the most pleasing 
in the sight of God. For a long time the 
bride could not see the meaning of this, but 
as he did not fail in eloquent words, she was 
compelled at last to assent. Once more did 
he make ber renew her vow of fidelity to 



Legend of St. Sebaldas. 27 

kirn, and tken fled from ker, and never saw 
ker more. 

" Tke lord Sebaldus now gave kis money 
to tke famisking, kis beautiful clotkes to tke 
naked, and clad in a coarse garment witkdrew 
to a wood, tkere built kimself a hut with 
bougks of trees, and subsisted on wild fruits. 
Every eartkly vanity ke kad cast aside, and 
tkus easily ascended by tke ladder of prayer 
to tke presence of God. As ke kad once 
kealed a cripple by invoking all tke saints, 
tke fame of kis sanctity spread far and wide, 
and attested tke blessing of solitude, wkick 
kad been so propitious to bim. From all quar- 
ters tke wretcked and tke keavy-laden flocked 
to kim, and ke raised tkem up from tke bur- 
den of tkeir sorrows. Otker god-inspired 
men joined tkemselves to him, and often, 
wken tkey complained of hunger, ke related 
to tkem tke history of tke five loaves and two 
fiskes ; and tkey felt tkemselves tke more edi- 
fied, wken an empty pitcker immediately be- 
came filled witk wine, arid an angel brougkt 
tkem bread. Wken tke lord Sebaldus bad 



28 



Norica. 



satisfied his soul with prayer, he resolved to 
travel with his companions to the holy father 
at Rome. The Pope graciously extended his 
slipper to the man of God, and granted him 
the office of instructing and converting all the 
heathens in Germany beyond the Danube. 

" But the lord Sebaldus could not restrain 
his zeal, and entered upon his office from the 
moment that he left Rome. It would take too 
long to relate, how he preached so as to soften 
the stony heart; how he made the blind to 
see and the lame to walk, the deaf to hear 
and the hungry to go away filled. He gained 
much praise, but some derision also. The 
latter he willingly endured, since it shewed 
him he had still something to convert. Thus, 
some one once cried out, when he was preach- 
ing, c People, believe him not ! Sebaldus is 
a liar. It is as true as that I cannot fly with- 
out wings, that the lord Sebaldus has wrought 
no miracle.' Scarcely had the heretic said 
this, when he found it difficult to stand, 
could not set his feet firmly on the ground, 
stretched out his arms as if he would seize 



Legend of St. Sebaldns. 29 

hold of the air, and as he straggled, felt 
that he was continually rising higher ; and, 
like a bit of down, ever driven upwards by 
the wind, he atoned for his sfuilt, and cried 
vehemently. Then did Sebaldus pray for 
him, and the mocker found rest again, and 
prayed with him. TTith difficulty did the 
man of God continue his journey. Nature 
: ust in the struggle between winter and 
spring, and it happened that when the saint 
reached the bank of the Danube, the rush of 
ice broke the bridge in pieces, and carried it 
away. His companions, the holy TTilibaldus 
and TTunibaldus, looked tremblingly at their 
leader. He trembled not, but throwing off 
his cowl, laid it on the water, stept on to 
it, and swam across the raging flood, which 
scarcely wetted his feet. 

•'• On the farther side of the river, a wo- 
man saw him ; and when he reached the 
shore, somewhat frozen, but otherwise well 
and in good condition, she knelt before him, 
and cried out, that God had been gracious 
to her, in that he had permitted her to be- 



3° 



Norica. 



hold such, a miracle with living eyes. She 
immediately led the lord Sebaldus into her 
thatched cottage. It was very cold, and she 
had no wood to kindle a fire. Her guest 
knew what to do, and bade her bring lumps 
of ice, and they burnt like dry wood. When 
the peasants in the neighbourhood heard 
this, they rejoiced, and they also took ice 
and tried it on the fire ; but their hope soon 
melted away to water. The poor woman 
fell at the feet of the saint, and praised God. 
She then related to him, with tears, that she 
had yesterday lost all her worldly goods, 
that is to say, two oxen, which had escaped 
from the stall, and could no more be found. 
Meanwhile, night had come on, and the hus- 
band returned lamenting, with the tidings 
that he had sought for them in vain. The 
lord Sebaldus bade him go once more to the 
wood, and pray as he went, and he would 
find his oxen. c In the night V replied the 
peasant, with a grin. But the saint repeated 
his command, his wife overpowered him with 
her entreaties, and he went. He thought it 



His removal to Niirnberg. 3 1 



was night, but around him it was day, and 
his hand shone like the sun. He prayed, 
and found his cattle. How great was their 
joy and rapture when the oxen were led 
home again ! The good couple knelt down 
and kissed the feet and hands of their bene- 
factor. They besought him to say what they 
could bring him, not as a recompense, but 
in token of their gratitude. ' Be pious, and 
I am thanked sufficiently, 5 said Sebaldus. 
But the people, who were overflowing with 
gratitude, were not satisfied with this, and 
continued their entreaties with vet more ear- 
nestness. Departing from them, he cried 
out : * Who knows whether I may not some 
time ask you to render me a service, and 
who knows whether you will then do it for 
me?' At this the poor people felt them- 
selves humbled and grieved, and they pro- 
tested that their gratitude was sincere. 

" The holy man moved onwards with his 
travelling staff, and came into the country of 
Niirnberg. Here, in the Lorenz wood, he 
took up his abode ; and his companions, who 



3* 



Norica. 



had been separated from him at the Danube, 
rejoined him. The god-inspired men here 
did nothing but work miracles, — "Wilibald 
and "Wunibald, " but above all, Sebaldus. 
The latter was still young when his last 
hour drew near. As he lay on his death- 
bed, his companions asked him, weeping, if 
he had any thing on his mind; where and 
how he wished to be buried, and other mat- 
ters. The dying man then mentioned to 
his friends a woman, whose hut lay near 
R,egensburg, not far from the Danube. To 
her they were to betake themselves, and ask 
her for the loan of her two oxen for a few 
days, that they might draw his bier. No 
one was to guide the beasts, and at the place 
whither they themselves went and stood still, 
there would he be buried. The holy Se- 
baldus departed this life. His friends went 
directly to the woman ; but she, when they 
made their request, asked who the lord Se- 
baldus was, and said that the oxen were 
just then at work in the fields ; that they 
could not have them ; that she was willing 



Burial of St. Sebalchis. 23 



to do a good turn to a living person, in the 
hope of receiving the same again, but not to 
one dead, from whom there was no hope of 
any recompense. Scarcely had the ungrate- 
ful woman spoken thus, when the furious 
steers broke open the door of the stall, and 
ran off. The two holy men shook their 
heads, and thought to themselves that they 
must hire other oxen. But when they got 
back, they saw the runaway beasts standing 
by the bier, to which they suffered them- 
selves to be yoked as quietly as lambs. Be- 
ing left to themselves, they wandered about 
hither and thither, and then bent their way 
to Niirnberg. Before St. Peter's Chapel they 
stood still, laid themselves down, and never 
rose up again. And there now rests, in 
blessed repose, the holy Sebaldus." 

" If he rests after death," I interposed, 
" he is not like other saints." 

" I did not mean that," resumed the nar- 
rator. " As soon as he was buried, and a 
miserable little shrine of wood was built over 
his grave, he could not rest till, at his own 



34 Norica. 



instance, the same, together with the chapel 
of St. Peter, was reduced to ashes by light- 
ning. It was seen then what a mighty guest 
they had received ; so the corpse was laid in 
an immense coffin of pure silver, and over 
it they reared the mighty church of St. 
Sebaldus. Now he remains well pleased 
amongst us, and all the good and all the 
wicked receive from him their reward. The 
rich people put money into his coffer, which 
he distributes among beggars ; and the poor 
bring him an offering of bread, fruit, wax, 
and whatever they have. And he knows 
quite well what every giver intends. There 
came a fierce soldier, who brought him wine, 
and poured it into the coffin, that the saint 
might drink it before his body became cor- 
rupted. While he was doing this, St. Se- 
baldus stretched out his dead hand, and 
marked him in such a way, that if he was 
still living, you would see the print of the 
five fingers on his cheek. A peasant lad is 
said to have once laid a cheese on the saint's 
grave for his lord ; but when he saw that 



Miracles of St. Sebaldus. 75 



more than one cheese had been already of- 
fered^ and remained untouched, he thought 
that he might cleverly manage to keep his 
own cheese, and offer a stone that was just 
like it to the holy Sebaldus. The peasant 
thereupon began to bite into the cheese, but 
directly broke two or three of his teeth, for 
it was a stone. He wondered that he had 
thus deceived himself instead of others, slip- 
ped into the church, and secretly changed 
his gift. But the new cheese was no less 
hard than the former one ; and he again lost 
some of his teeth. He changed it anew, but 
again paid the penalty. When he had lost 
all his teeth, he surrendered the cheese to 
St. Sebaldus, and threw away the stone to 
the place whence he took it. With the 
pious, however, the saint causes every thing 
to prosper. It happened in the lifetime of 
my great-grandfather, that a poor woman, 
with a dead child, ran into the church, and 
implored the patron-saint to restore it to life. 
And now listen ! — when the priest was per- 
forming the service, the child awaked, and 



3 6 Norica. 

said quite loud, e Amen/ though it was only 
three months old. — He is the friend of all 
in need; and what you would not believe, 
the chaste and holy Sebaldus assists even 
women in the hour of child-birth." 

Very glad I was when the rattling of the 
carriage over the stone pavement put a stop 
to my driver's flow of talk, and we at length 
entered the gate near the castle-court. I 
asked at the gate what time it was, and 
learnt that, although it was still in the fore- 
noon, the clock had just struck two. I be- 
gan to think I had got into a city of fools. 
I learnt afterwards that they here adopt the 
Italian mode of reckoning time, and that in 
the month of August their two o'clock would 
answer to our nine in the morning. Of 
foolery, however, there was no lack; and it 
seemed to me as if the whole city were a 
ball-room, and the citizens were nothing but 
boys allowed to run wild. Every where was 
fiddling and drumming, and every where 
feasting and dancing. People who were 
quite grown up surrounded my carriage in 



St. Sebaldus's Day. 37 



piebald dresses with masks,* and asked me 
all sorts of ridiculous questions. I was at 
first vexed with this folly ; but I afterwards 
joined in the laughter of my coachman, who 
fairly held both his sides. I turned to him, 
and directed him to take the nearest way to 
Herr ImhofT's house. This, however, with 
the best will, he could not do ; for in every 
open place, and wherever two wide streets 
crossed each other, bowers were erected, 
gaily adorned with chaplets of fir and di- 
vers-coloured ribbons, in some of which they 
were carousing and feasting, and in others 
dancing to pipes. At length, though with 
no little trouble, we reached the desired 
house. "We knocked, but no one opened 
the door. After waiting a long time, a kind 
neighbour explained to us that Herr Imhoff 
with all his family were gone to Neunhof, 
and would not return before evening. A 
Job's comforter, truly ! The coachman coolly 
turned to me, and said : " I could have told 

* The word in the original MS. is " Schonbarten," that 
is, masks with beards ; it probably means false beards. 



3 8 Norica. 

you that beforehand ; for on St. Sebaldus's 
day no one is at home. Genteel folks drive 
out into the country, and the poor saunter 
up and down the streets. If you would like 
it, honoured sir, I can give my horses a drop 
of water here, and then drive you to Neun- 
hof ; it is only four or five miles off. Herr 
Imhoff is spending a pleasant day there 
with the old gentleman, his father-in-law, 
Pirckheimer." " No, no," said I, somewhat 
peevishly; " drive me to the nearest and best 
inn." u The nearest and best," replied the 
man, " is the Golden Rose, in the Rathhaus- 
Platz ;* there you will have good entertain- 
ment." Again he set forwards ; and although 
I encountered many annoyances, yet the wild 
joy that shone in every countenance around 
me completely carried me away into the 
whirlpool of pleasure, and the Golden Rose 
on the sign of my destined inn I accepted 
as a good omen. And the presage did not 
deceive me. 

* The square of the Townhall. 



CHAPTER II. 




THE REMARKABLE PUBLIC WORKS OF ART IN 
NURNBERG. 

[he host of the Golden Rose 
shewed me into a cheerful cor- 
ner-room up one flight of stairs. 
" There, straight before you, wor- 
thy sir, you see the church of St. Sebaldus, in 
which there is much bustle to-day; and there, 
at the side, the Townhall, the two most im- 
portant buildings in the city. The festive 
procession which will take place in an hour's 
time, you will be able to observe quite con- 
veniently from this window." So said the 
host, who united with a comfortable corpu- 
lency a quiet and easy nature. But I do not 
like a stay-at-home life in a strange place, 
especially during the first few days. No 
sooner had I taken some refreshment and 
shaken the dust from my shoes, than I left 
the inn, not troubled about finding it again, 



4-0 Norica. 

as St. Sebaldus, with its two towers, was to 
be seen at every point, like a lighthouse, to 
guide me safe into the haven. Passing the 
townhall, I went straight along the street, and 
came out into the principal market, which 
is about half-way between that church and 
the one dedicated to St. Lorenz. Hardly 
had I entered the market, when my eye 
was arrested by the most beautiful fountain 
that ever was seen. An elegant little tower 
of considerable height, ingeniously broken 
by thousands of arches and gables, and sur- 
rounded by many statues, rises majestically 
above the basin. The statues seemed to 
consist entirely of the figures of heroes, 
many of which were adorned with the elec- 
toral mantle. As I stood full of wonder be- 
fore the fountain, a well-dressed young man 
came up to me, and repeated an old song, 
in which the heroes were all named. I have 
only been able to remember the beginning : 

" In NUrnberg market a fountain stands; 
Search where you may through distant lands, 
It's like vou ne'er will see."' 



The Fountain in the Market. 41 



The young man's name was Stephen Paum- 
gartner : he was a friend of Diirer's. When 
I asked him who had executed this work of 
art, he shewed me on the armour of one of 
the statues, which represented Charlemagne, 
the name of Schonhofer. " It is an old 
master/ 5 said he, " of whom nothing else is 
known. 5 ' "We know quite enough of him, 55 
replied I, " by only looking at this fountain. 55 
M He certainly possessed skill/ 5 resumed the 
other ; " but he is not to be compared with 
one Adam'Krafft, a worker in stone/* now 
living. Here, in the church of our Lady,"f 
— he pointed towards a small church in the 
market-place, — " you can see what each has 
produced. The church is by Schonhofer, 
but the curiously wrought chapel over the 
entrance is by our Krafft, our most accom- 
plished architect and sculptor. 55 I still stood 
before the fountain like one enchanted. Just 

* Worker in stone (Stein-metz) was the name given to 
sculptors who were also architects. 

f " The hall of our Lady" (Frauensaal). Charles IV. 
erected the church, and called it " the Hall of our dear 
Lady." It was also called the Imperial Chapel. 



4 2 Norica. 

then the clock on the church of our Lady 
struck the hour, and Paumgartner dragged 
me towards the church to see " the Mannlein- 
laufen," or moving figures. This was the 
name given to the ingenious piece of clock- 
work over the entrance of the church, be- 
cause every hour there was a procession of 
brightly painted and moving figures. 

It had a very comical effect. On his throne 
sat the Emperor Charles. A herald appeared, 
followed by four trumpeters, and after them 
came seven electors, with the insignia of the 
empire. The former, as soon as they came 
in front of the emperor, put the trumpet to 
their mouth, and the latter very gracefully 
took off their ermined caps. Above the em- 
peror, sitting in triumph, were the words, 
u Man, remember thy end," for the figure 
of Death struck the hours on the clock with 
his scythe. Paumgartner explained to me 
that these beautiful figures were wrought in 
copper by Master Sebastian Lindenast, who 
had received for his work various privileges 
from the Emperor Max. I now surveyed the 



The Church of Our Lady. 43 

church, which was but small, and admired 
the beautiful architecture, especially that of 
the entrance^ over which there was a bal- 
cony, from which, on certain holidays, choice 
relics kept there were shewn to the people 
by a priest; the imperial crown, the scep- 
tre and globe, the remains of the manger 
in which the Saviour was laid, of the cover 
of the table at the Last Supper, and of the 
crown of thorns. I intended at some future 
time to have every thing shewn to me that 
was worthy to be seen ; but the longer I 
stayed in Niirnberg, the more impossible this 
appeared to me, for in that place there is 
indeed much to be seen. 

By the advice of Herr Paumgartner, I 
now betook myself to the church of St. Lo- 
renz, in order to see there the Sacrament- 
shrine of Adam Krafft, which he described 
to me as the most perfect work of art. The 
direct way to it led me over the King's 
Bridge, from which the eye sees the yellow 
waters of the Pegnitz breaking against the 
shores of fruitful islands. I stood now before 



44 Norica. 

the minster of St. Lorenz, and the church of 
our Lady was forgotten. When I saw the 
gable, with its circular window like a star^ 
rising up between the two towers with their 
gilded spires, and the rich sculptures of the 
entrance, I thought at the moment that archi- 
tecture could surely achieve nothing higher; 
but when I entered the church, and beheld 
the vaulted roof aspiring to heaven, I was in 
doubt. Quite inspiring is a glance between 
the rows of piers, whose arches unite as if to 
form an embowered walk. It is astonishing 
how the stone seems to have forgotten its na- 
ture, and to rise at the bidding of art, exactly 
as the branches shoot up by the vital power 
in the trunk. I wandered over the vast space 
with uncertain step, till I stopped in astonish- 
ment at a pillar close to the high altar. For 
it was here that the ingeniously-wrought 
shrine, in which the bishop's hand preserves 
the host, towered upwards slender and ele- 
gant. The branches, tendrils, and leaves 
did not seem to be carved out of stone, but 
rather appeared to be leaves, tendrils, and 



The Church of St. Lorenz. 45 

branches turned into stone. And in fact the 
Sacrament-shrine, sixty feet high, was not a 
product of the chisel, but of casting,* for 
Krafft's superhuman power knew how to 
soften stone, and to pour it into moulds. The 
figures of the master himself and his two as- 
sistants, in a kneeling attitude, support the 
balustrade which surrounds the structure ; 
the former a venerable bald-headed old man 
with a beard, who looked up with as mild 
an expression as that of the other two was 
clownish and crabbed. Above these was the 
holy shrine, protected on each of the four 
sides by a lattice-work of brass. And then 
flowers and branches, beautifully entwined, 
wreathed the delicate lantern tower, whose 
summit ends in a crook. Between the shafts 
and branches were placed graceful pieces of 
sculpture, which represented the history of 
the Saviour's passion, from the prayer on the 
Mount of Olives to his resurrection. The 
officious sacristan, who, without being sum- 

* The secret art of casting in stone has long been known 
to be a fable. 



46 Norica. 

moned, placed himself at my side, and seemed 
to think that the more explanation he gave, 
the more money would be forthcoming as a 
fee, annoyed me not a little. Of all the things 
which he told me, only one gave me any 
pleasure to hear, namely, that my friend Im- 
hoff had founded a memorial of himself here 
by presenting this work of art. He almost 
dragged me away by force from this crown 
of human invention, and shewed me a large 
piece of carving which was suspended from 
the vaulted roof, and represented the Annun- 
ciation of Mary, a work by Veit Stoss ; and 
beyond it, the painted windows, which shone 
with a dazzling brilliancy, like sapphires and 
rubies, of which one (the Volckamer window) 
represented the genealogy of the Mother of 
God, and the other (the Margrave window) 
exhibited the portraits of the Burgraves of 
Zollern. The city artist, Veit Hirschvogel, 
had painted this window; who, like Veit Stoss, 
was still living, and a contemporary of the 
greater Krafft. Although after looking at these 
remarkable productions of art, I glanced at the 



The Church of St. Lorenz. 47 

different altar-pieces, which my conductor 
described to me at full length, yet the Sacra- 
ment-shrine still stood before my eyes. As 
I returned to it again with longing looks, the 
man smiled, and asked me whether I had yet 
seen the tomb of St. Sebaldus by Peter Vi- 
scher, in the church of the same name. Upon 
my answering in the negative, he cried out 
again and again, " How you will open your 
eyes there ! for Peter Vischer is, upon my 
soul, the first of artists." I looked at him 
doubtingly, whereat he became almost angry. 
"Have you really, then," he began again, 
" heard nothing of that most eminent red- 
smith,* Peter Vischer ? Every where in Ger- 
many — what do I say, Germany? — every 
where in Bohemia, Hungary, and Poland, his 
renown is spread with his works. Not a 
potentate, many as come to Niirnberg, ever 
left the city without having visited Vischer's 
foundry ; and many a prince has travelled 
hither merely to see him and his works ; and 

* The workers in brass were called red- smiths and red- 
founders. 



48 Norica. 

no connoisseur such as you are ought in this 
matter to be less zealous than crowned heads. 
What is Krafft, and what is Vischer?" — I 
thought it was mere idle talk. 

While the sacristan was still speaking, 
there arose shouts and sounds of rejoicing, 
and all the bells began to ring, and a hymn 
sounded forth amid trumpets and kettle- 
drums. (i Now come, honoured sir, and see 
the festive procession which is passing our 
church to go to St. Sebaldus." I gazed at 
the Sacrament-shrine, and expressed my in- 
difference about seeing any thing of that kind. 
{e But the procession to-day will be most mag- 
nificent," said the sacristan, who burned with 
curiosity, and yet did not wish to move from 
my side. " Yes, follow me, for I have yet 
some glorious sculptures to point out to you 
outside the church, the production of Adam 
Krafft, that great master !" Nothing re- 
mained for me but to obey him. And I did 
not repent it ; for here I saw the most beau- 
tiful youths and maidens in the most tasteful 
costumes. Even on this occasion it was evi- 



The Procession of St. Sebaldus. 49 

dent, art was held in the highest considera- 
tion in Niirnberg. 

As we came out of the church, the pro- 
cession of priests had already passed by, and 
right and left, as far as the eye could reach, 
banners waved and tapers flickered. From 
all sides there arose a solemn sound of music 
and song. All ranks, and the guilds with 
the symbols of their occupations, followed 
in a motley throng. But I was most of all 
pleased with a train of young people gaily 
dressed, who represented the prophets and 
various saints. There I saw Kins: David 
gorgeously arrayed in a purple mantle, with 
a golden crown on his head, playing the 
harp as he went along; and here St. Mar- 
garet, who bore in her hands a palm and 
a dragon. But the most beautiful of all was 
Ursula and her train, consisting of a num- 
ber of the most beautiful maidens ; and next 
to her came her chaste bridegroom, iEthe- 
rius, with a retinue of knights and squires. 
They were all dressed as beautifully and mag- 
nificently as one sees them represented in 



50 Norica. 



old pictures. " Who is that maiden yonder, 
and the young man ?" I asked the sacristan, 
though just then he was muttering prayers 
to himself. " The Ursula," said he, instruct- 
ing me, u is Afra Tucherin, the daughter 
of the burgomaster, and her bridegroom 
is really her bridegroom, Hans Schaufelin, 
a pupil of Diirer's." His name was known 
to me ; and the tasteful arrangement of the 
procession commended his art. Among the 
companions of Ursula, one maiden was more 
beautiful than all the rest, dressed in red, 
with a blue scarf, a true picture of the Ma- 
donna. How modestly she cast down her 
blue eyes, and in what natural tresses her fair 
hair fell upon her shoulders ! When, after 
the space of about an hour, the procession 
had passed by, my guide pointed out to me 
the Mount of Olives which Adam Krafft had 
wrought under a window against a projecting 
buttress. Under a roof, which rested upon 
slender pillars, were seen the Saviour fervent- 
ly praying, and the three disciples, their eyes 
heavy with sleep. Here a small lamp was 



Krafffs Mount of Olives. 5 1 



constantly burning. Perhaps it was because 
my mind was distracted, that this work did 
not particularly please me. I now thanked 
the sacristan for his trouble, and took the 
same road back again, in order to make a 
pilgrimage with the festive procession, which 
moved slowly on before me towards the tomb 
of St. Sebaldus. On the way I reflected how 
wonderfully all at once my feeling for art 
had changed ; how on former occasions I had 
been such an enthusiastic admirer of paint- 
ings, and had passed by all sculptures with 
indifference. I had gone with the greatest 
attention from altar to altar in every church, 
and long afterwards enjoyed the remem- 
brance of the pictures I had seen ; and now 
I had hardly turned my back on St. Lorenz 
than I seemed no longer to remember a single 
painting. In the church of St. Sebaldus I 
resolved to repair my omission, and this time 
therefore I looked at the beautiful fountain in 
the market-place with only half glances, and 
so also at the front of the Sebaldus church, on 
which hung an enormous crucifix of bronze. 



1 ' ■! ^^^^^^BiB^i« 



5 2 Norica. 



I forced my way with difficulty into the 
church, for the whole city seemed to be as- 
sembled in the open place before it. At 
the high altar, a bishop was just celebrating 
mass. I hastily looked at the woven tapes- 
tries which on this day clothed the walls of 
the church, and which represented the well- 
known miracles of St. Sebaldus ; hastily also 
at the baptismal font, which is called Wen- 
zel, because the Emperor "Wenzel, by his 
baptism in it, gave it the name. On the 
other hand, as with magnetic force, I felt 
myself drawn towards the chapel of bronze 
which stood in unparalleled magnificence in 
the middle of the church, and surrounded 
the silver coffin of St. Sebaldus, huge as a 
giant's tomb. On the pedestal I read this 
inscription : 

" PETER VISCHER, CITIZEN OF NURNBERG, EXE- 
CUTED THIS WORK, WITH HIS SONS. IT IS 
DEDICATED TO THE SOLE PRAISE OF ALMIGHTY 
GOD, AND IN HONOUR OF ST. SEBALDUS, A 
PRINCE OF HEAVEN, WITH THE HELP OF ALMS 
FROM PIOUS PEOPLE." 



Fischer 9 s Tomb of St. Sebalclus. 53 

Beautifully wrought pillars supported 
arches of equal beauty in the vaulted roof 
cast in bronze. Against each pillar stood 
one of the twelve apostles, as the true sup- 
ports of the holy church. Between the pil- 
lars stood tall candlesticks, such as are placed 
beside coffins, but closely examined, these 
candlesticks were found to be slender pillars 
which helped to bear the vaulted roof. Three 
little towers, variously perforated, crowned 
the work. But what shall I say of all the 
little figures, to many thousands, which were 
to be found above and below on the base- 
ment ? Anions: them mistfit be seen the 
leather apron of the indefatigable master, 
adorning him as his purple mantle a king. 
Most curious and amusing were many figures 
on the basement, which rested on crawling 
snails. I thought of the loquacious sacris- 
tan, and with shame I found his words to be 
true. I should have remained immovable 
before this work of art, without attending to 
what went on around me in the church, had 
not the gay procession, when the mass was 



— — 



54 Norica. 



ended, advanced towards the tomb of St. 
Sebaldus in order to perform their devo- 
tions there. I retreated from the holy place, 
illuminated by this wonder of art. Only in 
passing did I look at the sculptures which 
ornamented the exterior of the back of the 
church with representations of scenes in the 
passion of Christ. A part of them I could 
see from my inn. They left me unaffected, 
although they came from the hand of Adam 
Krafft. 

"When I returned to my inn, I was re- 
ceived by the host, who had put on a smart 
coat, and tied over it a snow-white apron, 
with the words that I was just come at the 
right time, for the soup was already served 
up. He led me into his garden, where we 
dined under fragrant trees. A number of 
the first citizens were assembled at table, and 
lookers-on were not wanting from among the 
people; for on St. Sebaldus's day a- license 
was given to all the poor alike, to collect the 
scraps from the tables of the rich. 

Among the guests was Herr Paumgartner, 



, 



The Festival of St. Sebaldus. 55 



who invited me to a place next himself and 
the Senator Paul Volckamer 3 a rather stiff 
gentleman. To Paumgartner I burst forth 
in expressions of astonishment at all the glo- 
rious things I had seen. Volckamer asked 
me, whether I had observed the window 
which he had presented to the church of St. 
Lorenz, and it seemed to surprise him that 
I should have admired any thing else there 
but this. Many things were related about 
Niirnberg, of which they spoke with as fond 
a predilection as I listened to them with atten- 
tion. The pleasure of the meal was further 
heightened by music, mountaineers from Bo- 
hemia joining in with their voices. The more 
freely the hospitality of the well- spread table 
was distributed among the poor, the heartier 
was the participation in this festivity. Among 
the unbidden guests, my eye was suddenly 
attracted by the same girl with the fair hair, 
full of graceful bashfulness, who, in the train 
of St. Ursula, pleased me better than the 



saint herself. Burning with eagerness, I 
turned to tny young neighbour, and asked, 



5 6 Norica. 



u Who is that maiden ?" although many 
women were standing round. Paumgartner 
immediately knew whom I meant, and said, 
" She is called Maria — Maria Rosenthalerin, 
a poor girl." The name impressed me deeply, 
and I whispered to myself, " Maria ! how 
could the maiden be called otherwise ?" 

In the meantime the health of the mighty 
emperor and king was drunk. I drank that 
of my queen, then that of the wise council ; 
I drank also that of the fair-haired maiden ; 
at last that of all the citizens of Niirnberg, 
and of the most beautiful ladies of Niirn- 
berg. It did not escape my friend, that I 
looked at her fixedly ; and as he was of a 
roguish disposition, he managed to contrive 
that I should see her quite near. He stood 
up, and begged to be allowed to address a 
word to the dignified assembly ; then he laid 
before them, in a truly touching manner, 
how many a noble person was undeservedly 
suffering want on that day, while they them- 
selves, smiled upon by the caprice of fortune, 
were opening their hearts to joy; how, be- 



The Rosenthalerin. 57 

fore all, a poor and once industrious old man 
in their native town deserved the sympathy 
of the good, for blindness prevented him 
from earning his bread, and pride from beg- 
ging it. Every one in the company declared 
himself ready to relieve with a trifle the dis- 
tress of the old man, whose name was not 
mentioned. The speaker now stood up, took 
a plate, and went up to the beautiful Maria, 
in order that she might collect the donations. 
Who was more delighted than I ? When 
the maiden presented the plate to me, I laid 
under the small silver coins a ducat. For this 
however I thought I might be allowed to look 
into the maiden's face, and I did not regret 
the price. But Maria would not take the 
piece of gold, and thought she ought to give 
it back to me. I drew back my hand, and 
Paumgartner interposed as a mediator, while 
he said, " Take the gift, maiden ; thou art 
collecting the money, not for thyself, but 
for thy aged father." She then made me a 
graceful reverence, shook the money out of 
the plate into a handkerchief, and with a face 



5 8 No7*ica. 

beaming with joy, hastened directly from the 
place. My eyes followed her steps, and I 
felt my spirits wonderfully raised. 





CHAPTER III. 

THE ARTISTS VISCHER, KRAFFT, AND LINDENAST. 

pg^^gg^ he remark of the sacristan, that 

^|S|^fe^:| no one wri0 had a sou l f° r ^e 
glory of art should delay to 
visit the foundry of Vischer, still 
rang in my ears like a gospel. I resolved to 
inquire for Vischer's dwelling-place, that I 
might see face to face the man who, as a star 
of the first magnitude, seemed to me to out- 
shine all others in Niirnberg. I thought, too, 
that this would be a good conclusion to St. 
Sebaldus's day, the noisy pleasures of which 
had sufficiently diverted me. It did certainly 
seem rather extraordinary that I, a stranger, 
should intrude late in the evening on the quiet 
hours of one whom I had heard described as 
the respectable father of a family, especially 
on a saint's day, when all the loving inmates 



60 Norica. 

of a household, assembled after their wont 
around the social board, might be disagree- 
ably surprised by the entrance among them 
of an uninvited guest. But all such con- 
siderations gave way to the ardent desire I 
felt to become acquainted with the skilful 
red-smith. A lad was soon found, who con- 
ducted me to Vischer's humble dwelling. I 
found the door open, and entered the dark 
ground-floor of the house, where I listened 
in vain for the sound of any thing stirring, 
and perceived at length, when my eye was 
by degrees accustomed to the darkness, an 
oaken chamber -door traced with brass. I 
knocked ; but all was quiet as a mouse, and 
the key which was in the door alone gave 
me hope that some one might be at home. 

I gave up the idea of speaking to the mas- 
ter of the house, and merely cherished the 
modest wish of ascertaining when I might 
visit him the next day. As no sound was 
heard in answer to my repeated knocking, 
I opened the door gently, and went into the 
room. Three persons were sitting there by 



A Visit to Vischer. 61 

a table in their shirt-sleeves, and were draw- 
ing so diligently, that neither my knocking 
nor my footsteps were heard. I stood there 
embarrassed, and feared to break the solemn 
silence. At length I took heart, and stam- 
mered out a greeting. One of the three 
looked round, and pushed up a little his 
small black cap. He was a man about fifty- 
five years of age, with a somewhat flattened 
nose, and a brown and beautifully -curled 
beard. ""What do you want?" he asked, 
abruptly. After I had mentioned my name 
and position, I stated to him my wish to 
speak with Master Yischer, and to see his 
foundry, if it would not be an interrup- 
tion to him. " It is always an interruption 
to me, for I am never without some employ- 
ment. There is nothing to see in my foun- 
dry, for nothing is doing there. Who knows 
whether a cast will ever be ordered again? 
Money is scarce, and art little valued." Thus 
spoke the old man, and I replied : " To-day 
I am afraid that I disturb you even more 
than usual, as I perceive you are giving in- 



6 2 Norica. 



struction in drawing." He laughed, and I 
saw my mistake, when the two others, who 
till then had sat leaning over the table, at 
last looked up. One of them was not much 
younger than the person who spoke to me, 
and the other, with a snow-white beard and 
bald head, full twelve years older. " Do 
people work so late in Niirnberg, and even 
on a saint's day ?" I asked, in order to begin 
a conversation ; and Vischer replied that it 
was his custom at least, and that of the mas- 
ters I saw before me, to practise themselves 
in drawing on the evening of festival -days^ 
since the master who thought himself beyond 
the years of learning, was already beginning 
to unlearn. The young people — he meant 
his children — could never pass any saint's 
day, especially that of St. Sebaldus, at home, 
and it was therefore necessary for him to 
take care of the house. The simplicity of 
manners which shewed itself in Vischer's 
words reconciled me to him immediately, 
although he had returned my first greeting 
so roughly. He stood up, — a short, firm- 



Lindenast and Krafft. 6 2 



built man, with, the neck of a Hercules, — 
and pressed my hand ; for, as I answered 
the many questions he put to me, it prepos- 
sessed him in my favour, that I had already, 
during my short stay in Niirnberg, seen so 
much. With unfeigned enthusiasm I praised 
the tomb of St. Sebaldus, which I called the 
crown of modern art. Yet not so much the 
praise I gave, as some remarks I made on 
his work, seemed a reason with him for mark- 
ing me out from the common class of tra- 
vellers. He now became restless, and, as if 
disconcerted, pushed his cap up and down, 
and then broke out into a lamentation, that 
he had nothing to set before me, that no 
one was at home, and that larder and cellar 
were locked up. I quieted him with the 
assurance that I had just made a very good 
supper, and begged him to have the good- 
ness to introduce me to the other masters. 

One of them was the ingenious Sebastian 
Lindenast, the artist of the admirable clock- 
work on the church of our Lady. He was 
a grave, quiet man, with long yellow hair 



64 Norica. 

and a smooth chin, I extolled his work 
as incomparable ; he, however, refused my 
praise with these words : " I, worthy sir, 
have only made the copper figures, only the 
images of the emperor and the electors ; it 
was my friend Hans Heuss who gave them 
a soul." This was, in fact, the name of the 
famous locksmith, who constructed church- 
clocks in a way that no one else could. The 
third master, a man of seventy years, looked 
at me with his dark eye, whose youthful fire 
strikingly contrasted with his silver beard, 
as kindly and confidingly as though we had 
already often greeted each other before. And 
truly I had already seen him — not himself 
actually, but a true representation of him — 
at the Sacrament - shrine in the church of 
St. Lorenz. It was Adam Krafft, the first 
worker in stone, not in Niirnberg only, but 
in the whole world. The old man stood up 
hale and hearty, placed a seat for me by his 
own, and did not conceal his satisfaction on 
hearing that I had already beheld his works 
with admiration, and hoped often to see 



The Design for St. Martin. 65 



them again. On my inquiring what they 
were drawing, Master Lindenast took up 
the word. " We are in the habit of design- 
ing a common subject, each according to 
his own conception. To-day it was my turn 
to choose a subject, and a piece of sculpture 
at the Townhall, which has long displeased 
me, occasioned me to propose St. Martin, 
on horseback, dividing his mantle with the 
beggar. In that work the saint holds his 
sword in such a way, that one might ima- 
gine he intended to stab either himself or 
the beggar, and least of all, that he meant 
only to cut off a piece of his mantle." 

As he spoke thus, I reflected on the subject, 
and expressed my sense of the difficulty of re- 
presenting it clearly and satisfactorily. u The 
beggar implores ; and Martin, instead of offer- 
ing him alms, draws his sword. The horse 
ought to shew something of the martial feel- 
ing of the rider, and nevertheless, though un- 
restrained by the bridle, he should stand still, 
while the master has both hands occupied in 
cutting the mantle asunder. It would not 



66 Norica. 



do to represent the beggar naked, and yet it 
should be apparent that the half cloak is des- 
tined for him." My remarks were approved 
of, and especially by Vischer, who all at once 
cried out, "It is generally our custom to meet 
and part as friends and brothers, without eat- 
ing or drinking, but to-day must be an ex- 
ception. We must entertain our guest, who 
speaks so sensibly, as befits him. I propose 
to you, therefore, my friends, that we let him 
(he is equally a stranger to us all, and there- 
fore impartial,) pass judgment on our draw- 
ings, and make him to whom he shall award 
the prize, our host. We will go to the tavern 
close by, and he who has borne away the 
honour, shall have the trouble of providing, 
and pay the cost." All were satisfied with 
this proposal. I looked at the sketches for a 
longtime, and each one, considered separately, 
seemed not to be surpassed. The one by 
Lindenast was executed with most neatness 
and delicacy, and that by Vischer with the 
greatest vigour. The pitiable condition of 
the destitute beggar was in all three sketches 



Comparison of the Sketches. 6y 



given with equal beauty, the head of the 
knight with the same character of nobleness, 
and the horse with the same expression of 
martial fire. In the sketch by Lindenast, 
Martin was seen cutting the mantle in two, 
with the evident consciousness, as he cast his 
eye upon it, that he shared it with the beggar 
from a Christian feeling. In that by Krafft, 
on the other hand, the undiverted look of the 
knight was fixed on the beggar, and with his 
sword he was dividing the cloak, careless how 
little might remain as a covering for himself. 
In Lindenast* s sketch, the knight appeared 
to be still thinking, while he looked at the 
beggar ; but here was expressed unbounded 
liberality, That the horse in both stood as 
if bound did not please me. In Vischer's 
drawing this was not the case. The horse 
seemed rather to be startled at the sight of 
the beggar in the road, and glanced his eye 
wrathfully aside, but with the rein, which his 
rider pressed with his elbows against his breast, 
he was compelled to be still. The knight 
looked not at the suppliant alone, but with 



68 



Norica. 



one hand cutting the mantle, with the other 
he was already presenting it to him. Here 
was the greatest truth and the greatest power. 
I praised all three drawings ; but I frankly 
pointed out every defect, and without irri- 
tating any one. " Yes/' said father Krafft, 
nodding his head, " Master Vischer has suc- 
ceeded best to-day." u Just so ! " cried Vis- 
cher ; " you agree with him, and leave me to 
pay the reckoning. You understand it. But 
the stranger gentleman is quite right in de- 
ciding thus, for it would be a shame if the 
master of the house allowed his expenses to 
be paid by a friend/' While I was still ad- 
miringthe drawings, Krafft asked me, whether 
he might make me a present of his. I was 
highly delighted at this, and began : " How 
favoured you masters all are above other 
men ! I have a right hand too, and that hancj. 
has fingers, yet I cannot draw a single straight 
line." " It is not my right hand only that 
is useful," said Krafft, smiling as he spoke, 
" but my left hand also." With that he took 
the red chalk, and touched up the sketch 



Reliefs Decision, 69 

in a style which few masters could have 
imitated even with the right hand. Krafft 
worked equally well either with the left or 
the right hand. Lindenast and Vischer also 
presented me with their drawings. Deeply 
touched by their kindness, I thanked them for 
their gifts, with the assurance that both my 
children and grandchildren should take delight 
in them. I requested the friendly donors to 
heighten the value of my presents by inscrib- 
ing their names on them. Then they all 
looked at me with an expression of surprise, 
and said almost with one voice : " We are 
craftsmen, but not scribes. We do not know 
how to write!" "Whereupon they inscribed 
their signatures in their own way. The first 
drew below his sketch a few small fishes ;* 
the second, the branch of a tree in blossom,! 
with bees swarming around it ; and the third, 
a Hercules bearing the globe of Atlas. J 

Cheerily we then betook ourselves to the 
tavern, and chatted over a glass of spark- 

* Vischer. f Linden-ast. £ Krafft. 



70 Norica. 

ling wine, as though we had known each 
other from childhood. I could hardly be- 
lieve what I saw ; that I, without an in- 
troduction, a mere merchant and stranger, 
should be passing the most joyous hours in 
such intimate communion with three of the 
first artists, the youngest of whom might have 
been my father. Such is the eternal youth 
of art. As children, after the first intro- 
duction, are immediately acquainted with 
one another, so all the lovers of art feel 
mutual affection, and full of childlike sim- 
plicity, forget both age and rank. Father 
KrafTt was full of jokes, and said all sorts of 
things ; and when he heard that Herr Hans 
Imhoff was our mutual friend, he threw his 
arms about my neck and kissed me. Mas- 
ter Vischer compared our meeting in the 
tavern with a similar one in Rome, where 
he had remained longer than his two other 
companions in art, and took occasion to tell 
many a tale of Italian manners and merry- 
making. A serious turn was given to the 
conversation by Lindenast, who made many 



Painting and Sculpture. 7 1 

a remark worthy of note concerning the 
arts which contended in that country for pre- 
eminence, and at length desired me to make 
a frank confession as to which was the more 
exalted art, Painting or Sculpture. The 
other masters supported him, and urged me 
to pronounce a judgment on this much-de- 
bated subject. I evaded the proposal for a 
long time, professing my inability. Before I 
came to Niirnberg I had directed my atten- 
tion exclusively to paintings ; here I had seen 
for the first time beautiful works in stone and 
bronze, and the impression they had left on 
me was so strong that my decision was com- 
pletely what they, as cultivators of the plas- 
tic art, delighted to hear. Vischer, who 
sat opposite to me, supported his head with 
both hands, and looked at me with deep at- 
tention, while I began thus : " Poetry may 
easily deceive; we think we see what it 
paints : but History only, which despises all 
colours, can we trust. The former gives a 
fair shew ; the latter, on the contrary, truth, 
cold and earnest like itself. The former 



7 2 Norica. 



is full of intoxicating enchantment, the at- 
traction of volatile youth ; the latter is the 
stable consolation of riper years. The com- 
parison between Poetry and History is that 
between the seduction of Painting and the 
solid worth of Sculpture." I did not say 
this to flatter them, but because it was really 
the feeling of my heart. Our lively joyous 
talk made us forget the hours of the night, 
till the watchman's horn warned us to part. 

We broke up together. First, Mend 
Vischer was accompanied home by all the 
party; then Lindenast separated from us; 
and only Father Krafft would not quit me 
till I had reached the threshold of my own 
dwelling, that he might save me from the 
vexation of losing my way. I was sorry for 
the old man, that he should come so far 
for my sake, but all remonstrance was in 
vain. With pain I took leave of Krafft. 
How touchingly he assured me of his friend- 
ship ! What a solemn promise he exacted 
from me, that I would visit him shortly! 
It was already late when I found myself in 



The Separation. 73 

my chamber; but what I had seen and ex- 
perienced on St. Sebaldus's day had so ex- 
cited me, that it was long before I enjoyed 
the refreshment of sleep. I spread out be- 
fore me the drawings I had received, and 
could not take my eye from Vischer's de- 
sign. How sublime and glorious must this 
knight look in bronze ! So I thought ; and 
a resolution arose within me, which only a 
later day brought to maturity. 




CHAPTER IV. 




ALBRECHT DURER THE PAINTER. THE PICTURE OF 
THE ASSUMPTION OF THE VIRGIN. 

ion more than ten years I had been 
in correspondence with the mer- 
chant, Hans Imhoff. Although 
business letters are somewhat 
curt and dry, yet from the scrupulousness 
with which he attended to my commissions, 
from the ceremonious expressions which every 
now and then occurred, even from his stiff 
handwriting — I had formed an image of him, 
which did not, however, in the least agree 
with the person himself. For instead of a 
courtier, with a formal manner, there came 
into my room a man full of life and cheerful- 
ness. Imhoff, who had just learnt from Mas- 
ter Krafft that I was staying in Niirnberg, 
came to visit me, full of prompt friendli- 



Visit of Imhoff. 75 

ness, although it was yet quite early in the 
day. His request, that I would lodge in 
his house^ I courteously declined, as I really 
was entertained very well at the Golden Rose. 
We had much talk together. The chapter 
on business was soon ended. My heart 
opened itself in his company, as I found in 
him a friend after my own mind : and, as in 
old age it does us good to hear a long-for- 
gotten song of youth, so his love awakened 
in me the remembrance of a happy time. I 
told him of all the beautiful things I had 
seen, especially the works of Vischer. Im- 
hoff smiled, when I called him the first ar- 
tist in Nurnberg. "You do not yet know 
our Diirer !*' he often repeated. " All that 
Nature generously distributes to different 
geniuses, she has combined in him alone. 
He is the greatest artist that ever lived. 
His works in gold and ivory, his woodcuts 
and copper-plates, his drawings and paintings, 
will ever remain unsurpassed." My looks 
expressed doubt, although as yet I had seen 
no picture by himself, only a few by his 



7 6 Nor tea. 

pupils. " Wait till you have seen your al- 
tar-piece/' said ImhofF, " and then you will 
know Diirer's worth." " I no longer wish 
for it/' replied I ; "I shall countermand it 
to-day. In fulfilment of a pious vow, I had 
determined to present an altar-piece to our 
Dominican church, but for this reason it 
must not be by Durer. I will have nothing 
to do with Durer, who has shewn himself 
but little generous in his behaviour towards 
me. There must surely be other good mas- 
ters in Niirnberg, masters who will keep 
their word." As Imhoff seemed to be dis- 
pleased with me speaking thus, I took out 
of my pocket-book some letters from Durer, 
and read aloud the following passages : 

" With the price agreed upon I am satis- 
fied. If you are obliged to wait long, then 
know for your consolation, that if God only 
gives me the power, I will produce some- 
thing for you which could be done by few." 
St. Augustine's day, 1516. 

" You wish me to paint your picture 
well : and that is truly my intention. No 



Discussion on Diirer. 77 

other person shall paint a stroke on the 
principal figure. But for the stipulated price 
of 130 gulden, I cannot execute the work 
for you. Give me therefore 200 gulden; 
and be assured that if I were to receive 
400, T should have no profit/' 1517. 

" You bring an angry complaint against 
me of dealing dishonourably with you, and 
not keeping my word. You write me, that 
I had promised to execute the picture with 
the greatest possible diligence. That I can- 
not undertake to perform, even if I spent 
my whole life upon it ; for, with the utmost 
diligence, I can hardly paint a single coun- 
tenance in half a year; but your picture con- 
tains a hundred faces, to say nothing of the 
draperies, the landscape, and other things 
contained in it. Even if I had really pro- 
mised it, you ought not to expect it and 
desire my injury/ 3 1517. 

" You have made known to me your dis- 
pleasure, because I have not yet sent you 
the picture ; yet I am conscious that I have 
worked at it zealously, and that I have had 



7* 



Norica. 



no other work on my hands. I did not wish 
to hurry, because I aimed, by my diligence, 
to please you, and to gain renown for my- 
self. Since you repent having entered into 
any engagement with me, I prefer my own 
injury to the loss of your friendship, and 
will take back the picture. The hundred 
gulden, which I have already received, I 
shall directly repay to Herr Hans Imhoff." 
1518. 

When I had read this, Imhoff told me 
that the week before Albrecht Durer had 
actually come to him to refund the hundred 
gulden advanced, which, however, he would 
not receive without my authority. " You do 
not understand," said he, " the nature of art." 
And when I said, I considered that I had 
seen something of art, he repeated, " You 
do not understand it in your city of Frank- 
furt. The artist, even though he should be 
assisted by the prophetic power of Apollo, 
cannot say certainly beforehand when, and 
for what price, he will furnish this or that 
work. It is a different thing with us mer- 



The Claims of Art. 79 

chants. Every commission given to us 
must be executed. If you order a pair of 
shoes from our poet, Hans Sachs, he will 
supply you with them at the appointed hour; 
but if you bespeak a poem from him, he can- 
not do it. No ; believe me, you do not un- 
derstand the thing. With this assurance I 
quieted the noble Diirer, who was hurt by 
your last letter. I represented to him, that 
you did not understand it, and then he took 
back the money." 

The frankness of Imhoff's words, which 
seemed to me utterly without foundation, 
vexed me so much the more, because I feared 
that the painter, under the impression that I 
understood nothing, would take little pains 
with my picture. I willingly agreed to his 
proposal to conduct me to Diirer's painting- 
room ; yet I begged him not to betray my 
name there, as I wished first to look at his 
pictures unrecognised, in order to prevent a 
mutual embarrassment. 

Imhoff led me by a circuitous path to Dii- 
rer's house, in order to shew me a produc- 



80 Norica. 

tion of Peter Vischer's, whose works I could 
not extol sufficiently. That is to say, I saw 
in the goose-market, at the fountain, the 
bronze figure of the Goose-man, a peasant 
in a homely but tasteful dress, who holds 
two geese under his arms, out of whose 
bills jets of water splash downwards. An 
admirable work, which raised still higher my 
estimation for this master in bronze casting. 
Conversation shortened the way to Diirer's 
house. I perceived immediately that it could 
not be far from the gate by w'hich I had en- 
tered Niirnberg, for I can easily find my way 
in strange places. Diirer's house is a tolerably 
large corner-building of timber and plaster, 
three stories high. A bow window, which 
seemed to consist entirely of glass, and which 
projected from the corner of the second story, 
struck me the most, and rightly so ; for it was 
here, as Imhoff informed me, that the painter 
constantly worked. We were yet at some 
distance from the house, when my companion 
asked my permission to go on first, that he 
might announce the visit of a stranger, whom 



Frau Agnes. 8 1 



he did not wish to name. " For/' added he, 
"Master Albrecht makes a great point of 
being in fall trim, and especially of having 
his hair carefully curled ; and he gave me a 
long scolding lately, because I unexpectedly 
entered his room with a guest, and surprised 
him in his morning attire." Herr Imhoff ran 
on first, and I followed leisurely. As he had 
left the house-door open, I walked into the 
entrance, in order to wait for him there. Here 
I heard the following conversation in the ad- 
joining room. It 'was Diirer's wife, Agnes, 
who was speaking in a hasty manner to 
Imhoff, in sharp tones almost like scolding. 
" Yes, good Herr Imhoff, you are always 
bringing strangers to my husband, who take 
him away from his work, and at last do not 
buy any thing. "What will come of this ? The 
whole of last week Albrecht was ill, and 
hardly touched the brush. Now he has to 
make up for it, and cannot be disturbed. 
He has lately paid twenty ducats for ultra- 
marine. Ay, what will be the end of it, 
if he will always, out of pure fancy, choose 



8 2 Nor 



nca. 



the most costly colours, and paint his pic- 
tures * oyer not once only, but ten times ? No 
one pays for the work. Other painters here 
— they understand it; and their wives too 
live like princesses. Why Albrecht is now 
painting a picture — others would hare finished 
ten pictures in the time — for one Heller in 
Frankfurt, and truly he is painting the pic- 
ture for a heller ;f for he will not even earn 
salt enough for his bread by it. You would 
not believe what it costs to keep so many 
young people, who are all strong and hearty, 
and who must eat, if they are to work. You 
came through the milk-market, did you not ? 
What is the price of butter ? It is fearful, 
how the price of every thing rises ; one must 
learn to do without eating." 

Although Imhoff, being impatient, had 
many times wished to interrupt her, at this 
point for the first time could any check be 
put to her flow of words, and she granted his 

* In the original, 'Tafel,' which, like the Italian 'tavola,' 
is used for a painting on wood. 
f Heller, a small copper coin. 



Diirer's Gallery. 83 

repeated request, to be allowed at least to see 
the paintings with an admirer of art. Her 
young brother-in-law, Hans Diirer, brought 
the keys, and led us up one flight of stairs 
into a large room ; and by his friendliness I 
recovered by degrees from the clamour of the 
angry woman, which long after still rung in 
my ears. Hans, a good lad, lived in his bro- 
ther's house, and was instructed by him in 
painting. When the room-door was opened, 
it really cost me some self-command to enter, 
for a reverential awe overcame me, while from 
all sides men and women in life-breathing 
forms gazed at me. The glow of the colour- 
ing dazzled, and the truth of the pictures 
startled me. Never had I seen any thing like 
it. I was first struck with a venerable portrait 
of an old man with white hair and many 
wrinkles — and underneath it I read the 
words : " This has Albrecht Diirer copied 
after his instructor, Michael Wohlgemuth, 
1516, and he was thirty-two years old." 

Here hung a wonderful picture of the 
Madonna, which, as Imhoff gave me to un- 



84 Norica. 



derstand, Diirer had copied after an Italian 
painting, but which he had far surpassed. 
How modestly the Virgin looked down, and 
how sweetly the child played with the cher- 
ries and the butterfly in his hands ! I could 
not tear myself away from the painting. I 
often uttered aloud Diirer's signature, A. D. 
(Ade*), and always turned back again. " This 
painting is no longer the property of the 
master/ 5 said Imhoff. " It hung here for a 
long time, and he would have sold it for 
twenty-five gulden, when a bishop of Bres- 
lau gave him seventy-two gulden for it." 

A large painting represented the " Last 
Judgment." Really he who beheld the con- 
demned spirits, experienced their tortures, 
and he who looked on the blessed, shared 
their feelings. In a division under the pic- 
ture was seen a row of people at prayer, all 
portraits of such a kind, that no one could 
doubt of the resemblance, even without 
knowing the persons. 

* Ade is a corruption of the word "adieu." 



His Pictures. 85 



Imhoff told me that this picture was in- 
tended to ornament the high altar in the 
church of St. Sebaldus. It was presented 
by the learned councillor Pirckheimer, who 
was a friend of Durer's. His portrait was 
therefore to be observed here, with those 
of his daughters, the nun Charitas, and Fe- 
licitas, the wife of Imhoff. Close by was 
the bearded head of Dtirer. It was a coun- 
tenance like that of St. Andrew, and looked 
interesting from its compassionate expression, 
as if the master was sorry to be obliged to 
paint himself so beautiful, and his corpulent 
friend so ugly. But I thought I then first 
quite understood Durer's compassionate look, 
when Imhoff pointed to a painting on can- 
vass,* which had its face turned to the wall. 
It contained a sketch, and represented a 
naked woman as large as life, and indeed 
it was Frau Agnes. How stern she looked 
out with her dark eyes ! 

* In the original manuscript, 'Tuch,' which means cloth. 
Paintings on cloth are often mentioned, evidently for paint- 
ings on canvass. 



86 Norica. 



I turned my eye from her to a small pic- 
ture, in which Diirer had painted himself 
by the aid of a mirror — truly the mirrored 
image of a great soul ! A picture like this, 
together with a collection of woodcuts, Diirer 
had lately sent to the first painter of Italy, 
Raphael Sanzio, to shew his veneration for 
him. 

We admired these and the other pictures, 
of which there were so many, that one saw 
nothing of the room except the beams of the 
ceiling, black with age, and the inlaid floor. 
Besides these, were to be seen in frames, 
under glass, silver medals which had been 
struck after a design of Durer's, and elegant 
works in ivory. From the roof hung some 
natural curiosities, cocoa-nuts, a saw -fish, 
horns of the unicorn, chamois, and buffalo. 

At that moment the dignified and stately 
figure of Diirer entered the room. He had 
just taken a bath, and his chestnut-brown 
hair flowed down in a profusion of wavy 
ringlets, well arranged, over his shoulders 
on each side. So much earnestness and so 



Introduction to Dtirer. 87 

much gentleness I never saw blended in one 
countenance. His blue eye was all soul, and 
the lines of his mouth all sweetness ; but 
the expression of patience could not be dis- 
guised. As he perceived me, he arranged 
his fur -trimmed gown, which became him 
well. Diirer welcomed Herr Imhoff most 
heartily, and me not less so, who was intro- 
duced to him as a patron of the Fine Arts. 
Diirer, whose usual custom it was to say 
little, drew our attention in a few words to 
many of the paintings, and then spoke with 
apparent pleasure of a picture on which he 
was at that time engaged. Imhoff expressed 
a wish to see it, and the master was ready 
directly, when an easel had been placed, to 
bring in the picture. He brought it. It 
was the Assumption of the Virgin, — the 
painting intended for me. Imhoff looked 
at it in silent admiration, as if enchanted by 
a beauty never before seen. But I trembled 
with joyful astonishment, and, forgetting my- 
self, gave vent aloud to the expression of my 
feelings. 



88 Norica. 



" This Virgin — with what a holy joy she 
looks up and ascends to heaven! She has 
no need of a seraph's wing, for her own 
purity, raised above human frailty, bears her 
up to the primal fount of light. This Virgin 
— with her blue eye full of heavenly long- 
ing, and her fair locks which flow down with 
an artless grace, she it is who has recon- 
ciled us with earth and heaven ! All those 
groups of the loveliest little angel heads — 
how playfully they hold the robe of the Vir- 
gin ! To look on their infantine innocence is 
a glance into heaven. How the Apostles at 
the grave of the Virgin gaze upwards, while 
the fragrance of a rich display of flowers 
breathes on her from the tomb, instead of 
the scent of decay ! But what apostles ! what 
angels ! Their holiness and purity are re- 
flected back again holier and purer in the 
countenance of Mary. How do even the red 
robe and dark-blue mantle express dignity ! 
But her dark-blue eye and her fair locks dis- 
tinctly say, that in her form the world of 
creations is exhausted !" 



The Picture of the Assumption. 89 

Thus I exclaimed^ and found fault with 
my eye that it could not sufficiently com- 
prehend the beauty of the picture. The 
longer I looked at the Virgin, the clearer 
it became to me that she was a true por- 
trait of that maiden whose features were 
imprinted in ineffaceable characters on my 
heart. Yes, Maria Eosenthalerin greeted me 
in the picture. " And about this picture/' 
I began, M should I bargain and haggle ? 
Nay, two hundred gulden seems to me a 
small price for it." As I said this, the secret 
was disclosed. Albrecht was delighted to 
become acquainted with me personally, and 
then added, " Herr Imhoff, I must acknow- 
ledge, has represented you to me in rather 
unfavourable colours. He denied that you 
had any taste for our art, and I was on the 
point of parting with the picture, since I 
regretted the labour I had bestowed upon 
it. But now it belongs to you, even should 
you give me only half the price." He 
pressed my hand like an old friend, and joy 
seemed to animate all his features. I apo- 



90 Norica. 

logised for the improper tone of my letters, 
and confessed that Imhoff was not quite 
wrong, for that before my acquaintance with 
him, I had not known what painting was. 

We were still earnestly talking about the 
picture which stood before me nearly com- 
pleted, when Frau Agnes entered, who pro- 
bably had been listening at the door, and had 
heard my name. She was well but plainly 
dressed, as became a good housekeeper ; and 
into her looks, which were generally expres- 
sive of a suspicious, covetous, and quarrel- 
some temper, she tried to throw as much 
gentleness and friendliness as possible. She 
made a low curtsy to me, and after all sorts 
of friendly questions, she inquired how the 
painting pleased me at which her husband 
had worked already so long, nearly three 
years, and with so much enthusiasm. I ex- 
tolled to her, now the glow of the colouring, 
now the conception, and now the expression 
of particular heads, — whereupon she broke 
out into the following protestation : " Yes, 
only think, here you see the most costly 



Fran Agnes again. 91 

ultramarine laid 011 with the purest nut-oil ! 
Ultramarine has been lavished here to the 
amount of five -and -twenty gulden. All 
the ground was laid in with this, and then 
painted over more than once. If you keep 
it clean, the picture will look quite fresh 
even after five hundred years. On this 
centre figure Albrecht has worked quite 
alone with his own hand, to say nothing of 
the pupil who prepared the canvass. Ay, 
and a fine piece of gold, too, he got for 
whitening and gilding it, for the rich Herr 
Heller must have every thing done for him 
in the best possible way. Artists were here 
lately, who valued the picture at three hun- 
dred gulden, but it is worth more." 

In this way the woman spoiled my enjoy- 
ment. Imhoff looked impatiently at her, and 
Diirer tapped her gently on the shoulder, 
with the words : " Dearest, leave the gentle- 
man alone ! If one would look at any thing, 
one must not speak." But still she could 
not be brought to silence for a long time. At 
last she exclaimed, "The gentleman would 



9 2 Norica. 

like to see your woodcuts and engravings. — 
I will bring every thing up ; the Great and the 
Little Passion, the Life of Mary, St. Jerome 
in his hut, St. Anthony, and St. Eustasius, 
the Apocalypse — yes! — that is something 
for such a connoisseur." In vain I begged 
her not to trouble herself, as I thought I had 
seen enough of the beautiful for to-day ; but 
no objections would satisfy her. Hardly had 
a quarter of an hour passed, when she was 
again up-stairs loaded with portfolios, sheets, 
and books, so that she could hardly hold 
them all with both hands. She shewed me 
some incomparably beautiful things, and did 
not fail, with every leaf, to tell me the price ; 
so that nothing remained for me but to buy 
a great part of the woodcuts and engrav- 
ings. But friend Imhoff, who was greatly 
annoyed with the thing, at last compelled 
me to depart. I took my leave, and it was 
even harder for me to part from my picture 
than from Durer, who promised soon to 
finish it for me. 

On my way back, Imhoff let me into the 



Woodcuts and Engravings. 93 

secret, that I might have purchased the 
plates much more cheaply, and that Frau 
Agnes might be bargained with. But I did 
not care for my money, for the things were 
indeed so beautiful. 




CHAPTER V. 



ALBRECHT DURER S BOOK OF RECOLLECTIONS. 




rare intimacy we soon formed 
with each other, — the noble- 
minded Diirer and I. This I 
recognised most unequivocally 
in the fact, that he entrusted to me a book 
containing a notice of family incidents, — a 
book in which he was accustomed to note 
down whatever, whether of good or evil, 
befell him. As he had no children whose 
lips would perpetuate his memory, he thought 
that he ought not to mind the trouble this 
gave him. 

FAMILY NOTICES. 

" I, Albrecht Diirer, was born on St. Pru- 
dentius's day, which fell on a Friday, in the 
year 1471, according to the usual reckoning, 
in the free imperial city of Niirnberg. My 
remotest ancestors, of whom I know any 



Diirer's Father. 95 

thing, lived in the kingdom of Hungary, and 
were country- people, whose occupation was 
the breeding of cattle and horses. My grand- 
father, Anthony, learned the goldsmith's art 
in the little town of Wardein, and things 
prospered with him. His eldest son, Al- 
brecht Diirer, who was my dear father, 
learned the same craft ; he was a skilful 
and god-fearing man. He early set out on 
his travels, and came into Germany. Clever 
as he was, he yet found little employment, 
and roved about, unsettled, contending with 
want and distress. The lighter his knap- 
sack, the heavier his journeyings ; and when 
in the evening, weary with his day's travel, 
he turned into an inn, his stomach was often 
obliged to rest as well as his feet. But God 
never forsakes his own ; and that proved 
itself in him. When he first beheld the 
towers of our city, he sighed, and exclaimed : 
" Hungry as thou now art, hungry must 
thou remain when the end of thy journey 
is reached." For he had neither relation 
nor friend in Nurnberg, not a stiver in his 



96 Nor lea. 



pocket, nor any recommendation except his 
honest countenance. It was in the year 1455 
that he entered the city. From ignorance 
of the place, instead of passing through the 
Thiergartner gate, he entered by the Vest- 
ner gate, which lay close to it ; and when 
he perceived his error, he was vexed to have 
gone round, for he was faint and weary. 

On the same day, the wealthy Hans Pirck- 
heimer was celebrating his marriage, and in- 
deed at the citadel, which was the reason my 
father heard from a distance sounds of drums 
and trumpets. The rich men of Nurnberg 
were all invited to the feast, and the poor 
were there without invitation, that they might 
see the show, and also pick up something 
from the bridal table. In the court, where 
the great lime-tree still stands, the young 
people were engaged in various pastimes ; 
and meat and drink were carried round in 
incredible abundance, and liberally distri- 
buted among the poor. The stranger-jour- 
neyman also received his share, and the 
good fare refreshed him so much, that he 



Pirckheimer's Wedding. 97 

quickly forgot his weariness. The gaily- 
dressed youths and maidens were to perform 
a great dance around the lime-tree, in hon- 
our of the bridal pair, and were practising 
its various positions and groupings. But 
the thing would not succeed; for each one 
thought he understood it, and danced after 
his own fashion, and there was nothing but 
disorder and confusion. My father then 
took courage^ — for he understood these fes- 
tal dances, — came forward, and offered to 
arrange them. His offers were accepted 
with great approval; all submitted to his 
directions ; and the performance not only 
succeeded, but excited general attention on 
account of the many new and beautiful 
figures of the dance. Among the guests 
who were looking at the dance with admi- 
ration was Herr Hieronymus Haller. He 
inquired who had arranged it all; and the 
stranger was pointed out to him who had, 
unbidden, assisted in celebrating Pirckhei- 
mer's wedding. "When Herr Haller, who 
was the first goldsmith in Niirnberg, found 

pi 



9 8 Norica. 

that my father practised the same art, he 
appointed him to come to his house the next 
day, as he wished to see whether his skill as 
a workman corresponded to his prepossessing 
and modest demeanour. 

Who now was happier than he ? And 
when Herr Pirckheimer, the bridegroom, 
made him, further, a present of some gulden, 
he offered praise to his Creator, and extolled 
Niirnberg ; and he never ceased to extol it 
and to offer praise during his whole life. 
Herr Haller was not deceived in the stran- 
ger. He took him forthwith into his house 
as a journeyman, and never parted with him 
till he also parted with his daughter, whom 
he gave him for his wife. 

Barbara Hallerin, who was my dear mo- 
ther, was then a pretty slender maiden, fif- 
teen years of age. To begin housekeeping 
is a serious affair for a handicraftsman, and 
therefore Herr Pirckheimer, — whom may 
God reward in heaven! — kindly took my 
father into his charge. He lived in a large 
house opposite the church of our Lady, close 



Albrecht Durefs Birth. 99 

to the beautiful Fountain. He had besides 
a house at the back, which was situated in 
the Winkler- Strasse , and this he gave up to 
the young married pair. Barbara bore eigh- 
teen children, of whom, however, only three 
survived their parents, viz. myself, Albrecht ; 
Andreas, who is now painter to the King 
of Poland, and who, if I die before him, 
will be my heir ; and lastly Johann, who has 
likewise chosen our profession. Our dear 
parents bestowed unceasing diligence in 
bringing up their children to the honour of 
God, so that they might grow up in favour 
with Him and with men. 

In the said house, then, I was born, and 
only a few months earlier, Wilibald Pirck- 
heimer, who has been my friend from child- 
hood, and will remain so to the grave. We 
continually played together in harmony, chil- 
dren of the same house ; and a similarity of 
taste every day bound us closer to each other. 
He taught me what he had learned from his 
polished tutors, who were ecclesiastics. It 
was especially the history of the Romans 



ioo Norica. 

which filled us with delight and enthusiasm ; 
how by their bravery they had subdued all 
nations, and had become lords of the whole 
earth. I constructed balistae and catapults, 
battering-rams and standards, and sketched 
the plan for fortifications which were laid out 
in the court. We fought, and conquered, 
and made triumphal processions with song 
and joyous din. 

My father, who took particular pleasure 
in me, sent me to school, and wished that I 
should in future devote myself to learning, 
like Wilibald, as he discerned in me an ap- 
titude for it. He held it for a good omen, 
that in the year of our birth the renowned 
Johannes Eegiomontanus had come to Niirn- 
berg, — a mathematician like none before him, 
as there will be none like after him. But 
he died while I was still a child of tender 
years. My father, therefore, gave up his 
intention; and as I had now learned to read 
and write, he taught me the goldsmith's art. 
It was greatly to my advantage that I had 
practised drawing diligently, and had in our 



Dilrefs Education. 101 

military sports made designs* of coats of 
arms for Wilibald. I learned to work neatly, 
and in some of my productions I succeeded 
very well. Thus I made the hilt of a dagger 
for the Emperor Maximilian, which he was 
accustomed to use as a seal, and on which, 
besides the Lord Christ on the cross, Mary 
and John and others were represented in 
neat and wonderfully small figures. 

Nevertheless, I took greater pleasure in 
painting than in working as a goldsmith, and 
I could not conceal it from my father. He 
was not pleased with this, for he grieved at 
the time that I had lost. But as my incli- 
nation for it did not diminish, he resolved to 
put me under the tuition of Martin Schon, a 
very celebrated painter at that time in Col- 
mar. But as it befel me with the mathe- 
matician, so it was now. Master Schon died, 
before I had enjoyed his instructions, in the 
year 1486. My father now put me under 
Michael Wohlgemuth for three years, since 

* In the original, ' Visierungen,* designs, patterns, car- 
toons. 



io2 Norica. 



he painted the best pictures in Niirnberg. 
God bestowed his blessing on my diligence, 
and the master requited with his entire trust 
my childlike reverence. Never shall I forget 
the kindness I received from the venerable 
"Wohlgemuth. Yet in his house I had much 
to suffer from malicious fellow- workmen, who, 
because I was young and bore every thing 
patiently, pushed me about and ill-treated 
me. But they have got their reward, and 
one of them who formerly beat me, and said 
I should never understand any thing, is at 
this day actually receiving alms from me. I 
give, without reminding him of his former 
conduct. 

When I had completed my apprentice- 
ship, I set out on my travels. Master Wohl- 
gemuth parted from me as a father, with 
tears, and to conceal his sorrow, said smiling, 
that it was well I was going, as else he should 
have driven me away out of jealousy. In 
the year 1490, my dear father sent me into 
the Netherlands, and there I remained four 
whole years. I left my native city as a jour- 



Diirer's Marriage. 103 

neyman, and greeted it again as a master, 
and the fame of my great skill preceded me. 
My father had a friend named Hans Frey, 
who played well on the harp, and was an in- 
genious master in small waterworks. This 
man was of opinion that no men are better 
off than painters, and that they get their 
bread in the easiest way. He wished, there- 
fore, his daughter Agnes to marry a painter, 
and indeed the most eminent that there was. 
When Herr Frey then heard of my skill — for 
the people called me the German Apelles — he 
began to negotiate with my father about his 
daughter. The young maiden, Agnes Freyin, 
was in this manner bestowed on me, and 
with her 200 gulden, with which I purchased 
the house in the Zissel-Gasse. Hans Frey fur- 
nished the wedding-feast, which was indeed 
splendid. This happened in the year 1494. 
It was in the eighth year of my marriage 
that a fearful comet was seen in the heavens. 
I myself was uninjured by it. But my dear 
father suddenly fell sick, and a burning fever 
seized him in the midst of his unceasing and 



1 04 Norica. 

ingenious labours. My filial affection led me 
to his sick bed, and I did not quit it through 
two whole nights. On the third night, sleep 
overcame me, and my mother watched while 
I went up into the chamber. The patient 
was restless, for the hot fit was on him, and, 
in an exhausted state, he got out of bed. Big 
drops of sweat fell from his forehead, and 
he complained of thirst. My mother gave 
him a little wine. But he scarcely tasted it, 
wished to get into bed again, and thanked 
her. From that hour he grasped the coverlid 
convulsively ;* the afflicted wife lighted the 
lamp, and repeated to him some verses of St. 
Bernard (a death-bed hymn), and when she 
had ended the third verse he was gone. God 

* In the original, "halt er von Stund an in die Zwg gegrif- 
fen." These words are not equivalent to the modern Ger- 
man, "in die letzten Zuge gef alien''' (come to the last gasp). 
In East Prussia, and especially in Konigsberg, many an- 
tiquated phrases of the old Niirnberg dialect are still in 
use; as, for instance, "Zuge" for " Bettiiberzug " (bed- 
cover), "Zwele" for "Handtuch" (towel), " Schaff" for 
"Schrank" (chest), "Spannbett" for " Bettgestell " (bed- 
stead), rendered " Bettlade" (press-bed). — These old words 
occur in the original manuscript. 



Death of Burer's Father. 105 

be merciful to him ! When the housemaid 
heard the old man groaning, she ran quickly 
to my chamber, and awakened me. But I 
came too late. With deep grief I perceived 
that I had not been worthy to be present at 
his death. O ye my friends, I beseech you 
all, for God's sake, to remember his soul with 
a Pater-noster and Ave-Maria, as you love 
your own souls. For one who had lived so 
well, the departure from this world could not 
come amiss. When my father, two days be- 
fore his death, was receiving the holy sacra- 
ments, he commended my mother to my care, 
a poor afflicted widow — (for he had never 
earned more than sufficed for his daily wants) 
— and bade us live in the fear of God. 

I now took my mother to my home^ and my 
youngest brother Hans also. My brother An- 
dreas was in a foreign land. My mother Bar- 
bara, good and pious woman as she was, bore 
my father's blessed departure like a Christian. 
As she had had many children, and a small 
income, she was obliged to do every thing 
herself, even washing and cooking, and was 



io6 Norica. 

inured to pain and privation. She had often 
been ill, and had had to bear, among other 
trials, the contempt, sneers, and scoffs of her 
slanderous neighbours ; but her disposition 
was not revengeful, and she bore all with 
patience. After she became a widow, she 
was regularly to be seen at church, and she 
duly reprimanded me if I did not also shew 
myself devout. Her chief concern was, that 
I and all who belonged to her should be pre- 
served from sin; and whenever I went out 
or came in, her words always were, " In the 
name of Christ. 5 ' Her holy admonitions did 
my soul good ; and her good works, and the 
tenderness which she shewed towards every 
one, I can never sufficiently extol. We lived 
peacefully together. The year before her 
death she was very ailing. In the year 1503 
a great prodigy happened. Crosses fell down 
every where from heaven on many people, 
and especially on children. A little cross of 
this kind fell in my mother's lap as she sat in 
the court; and she wept and mourned, be- 
cause she feared she was to die. The cross 



His Mother's Death. 107 

had this appearance. [In the original manu- 
script a cross was sketched here with the pen.] 
One morning — it was in Passion -week 
— my mother did not make her appearance. 
We knocked at her chamber-door, but no 
one answered, and the door was bolted. So 
I forced it open, and found my mother in a 
mortal sickness. Both sacraments were ad- 
ministered to her, for her end seemed nigh. 
She still suffered, however, some time lon- 
ger, till at length, on the 17th of May, 1504, 
my pious mother, Barbara Durerin, departed 
like a Christian, and, by the power of the 
Pope, was absolved from all penalty and 
guilt. She gave me her blessing, and wished 
me a divine peace. She feared death; but 
" to come before God," she said, " she did 
not fear." She had a painful end; for she 
often asked for holy water, to free her from 
her anguish, till her eyes grew dim. I 
prayed with her. I cannot describe the great 
pain I suffered on her account. She was 
sixty-three years old; and I buried her with 
as much honour as my means admitted. God 



108 Norica. 

be gracious to her ! She has found her re- 
ward, and in death looked much lovelier 
than when she was still living. God grant 
me a like blessing in my last hour, and may 
He with his heavenly host, and, with my fa- 
ther and my mother, be present at my end, 
and grant me eternal life. Amen ! 

In the year 1505, the German Company 
at Venice negotiated with me to come and 
adorn their church with paintings. There 
was much writing backwards and forwards 
before I could resolve on this journey, in 
order to banish the thoughts of death, which 
had haunted me since my mother's depar- 
ture. I went to Venice for the sake of art, 
not for the gain, for that was trifling. I 
parted unwillingly from my friends, espe- 
cially from Wilibald Pirckheimer, who had 
always been my comfort, and I promised to 
write to him constantly. In 1507 I betook 
myself to Venice for a year." 



Unfortunately the family narrative, which 
had been written down shortly before his 



Visit to Venice. 109 

departure for Venice, did not extend be- 
yond the year 1507. Then followed some 
letters of a later date, which had been pre- 
served in part intentionally, and partly by 
accident, some poems and household memo- 
randa. 

" What now follows, concerns my pro- 
sperity, which I have acquired by severe la- 
bour. Never has it been my good fortune 
to gain much. On the contrary, I have had 
great losses, since I have lent money which 
I have never received again; and my jour- 
neymen anticipated all my profits, and one 
of them died at Rome, and so I lost by him. 
In the thirteenth year of my marriage, I had 
to defray a large debt which I had contracted 
at Venice. 

My household furniture is tolerably rich 
in clothes, pewter-ware, beds, cupboards, 
presses, implements, and colours, which alone 
are worth 100 Rhenish gulden. 

Written on Trinity Sunday, in the year 
1508. 

In the year 1509 I began to write my 



no Norica. 

first rhymes ; but I did not yet understand 
how rightly to set about it, till Wilibald 
Pirckheimer gave me instruction. I then 
wrote out in rhyme many a good rule of life. 
Pirckheimer was pleased with my attempt; 
but the Secretary of the Council, Lazarus 
Spengler, made a joke of it, and sent me the 
following verses : 

" In nature many things we see 
Conjoined, which yet do not agree ; 
But one I now will here recite, 
Which must your laughter sure excite. 
"Whene'er of Niirnberg you hear, 
His name as oft will meet your ear, 
Whom, far and wide, for skill revered — 
With crisped hair and flowing beard — 
Nature, 'mid all her works around, 
A painter from his birth has owned. 
But since he can both read and write, 
Forsooth he needs must verse indite : 
Far better if he ne'er had tried it, 
Because to read is to deride it. 
A lesson he might learn, I ween, 
From the poor cobbler, who had seen 
A picture, and forthwith exclaimed, 
6 The shoe is bad.' The artist, shamed, 
Altered the shoe to suit the mode, 
Which the sage critic understood. 
But when, elate — so says my song — 
Crispin declared the coat was wrong, 



Poetical Controversy. 



in 



4 My friend, you claim the tailor's due,' 
Replied the artist, — s mind your shoe ; 
Stick to your last, and ne'er forsake it.' 
Here is thy lesson, painter ; take it." 

To which I replied as follows : 

" A scribe, whose ready hand can trace 
Whate'er needs record in this place, 
Has freely played his wit on me 
For small attempts in poetry ; 
His verse with nonsense largely freighted, 
And me with that old cobbler mated, 
Who, seeing once Apelles' limning, 
Condemned himself in that condemning — 
8 Aim not above a painter's praise,' 
Quoth he. But yet my voice I'll raise. 
To learn what still beyond us lies, 
Ne'er yet was censured by the wise. 
He who on one thing always dwells, 
Nor cares or labours for aught else, 
Is like the scribe — so wondrous clever — 
Who still, to one thing constant ever, 
Drew all his deeds — the modest soul! — 
In one set form of protocol. 
Before him once a party came — 
Drawn was the deed, all but the name : 
Gotz Rosensamen that ; so queer 
And strange it sounded in his ear, 
He could not on his sheet engross it. 
4 What's this?' he cried ; ' why did you choose it? 
Such name I never did indite — 
Here Franz and Fritz we alwavs write/ 



ii2 Norica. 

Would I escape such sore disgrace, 
I must with growing needs keep pace. 
Time ever fresh material brings ; 
The future nettle early stings. 
The doctor's art I'll practise too ; 
A wholesome course prescribe for you. 
The glutton must eat milk and bread, 
And then no physic he will need ; 
And if his state to gout incline, 
Let him drink water pure for wine. 
Should you a hundred years live through, 
You'll find this counsel sound and true. 
My verse meanwhile shall freely flow — 
Free as your wit its gibes may throw. 
Thus meets the scoffer's taunting strain 
The bearded painter's fearless vein/ 

Copy of an Imperial Rescript to the Council 
in Niirnberg, of the year 1517. 

" Maximilian, by the grace of God, elected 
Roman Emperor. 

Whereas Our and the Council's faithful 
Albrecht Diirer has used the greatest dili- 
gence in executing the designs* which he 

* By these are probably meant the sketches of Albrecht 
Diirer from which the celebrated Hieronymus Rasch made 
woodcuts for the emperor. The sketches represented the 
emperor in a triumphal chariot; but they are quite distinct 



Diirer's Present to the Council. 1 13 



undertook in compliance with our wish, we 
shall exempt the said Albrecht Diirer, who 
excels all other masters in the art of painting, 
from the payment of all taxes, in considera- 
tion of our favour, and of the renowned art 
whereby he has made your city glorious." 

Copxj of a Letter to the Council of Number g. 

" Most prudent, honourable, wise, and dear 
sirs, — Although I have for a long time de- 
sired to present your worships with a picture 
as a memorial, yet have I so long omitted it, 
from the fear that it might not be acceptable 
to your worships. But as I have now under 
my hands a picture representing Adam and 
Eve, on which I have bestowed more care 
than on other paintings, I ask your worships, 
on this account, with respectful earnest- 
ness, whether you will graciously accept the 
same as a small present, and be and remain 
my gracious and loving lords, as you have 
hitherto been. This, with all submission, 

from the painting on the same subject which Diirer exe- 
cuted on the walls of the Townhall. 



114 



Norica. 



will I endeavour to deserve at the hands of 
your worships. 

" Your worships' 

u Very obedient servant, 
" Albrecht Durer. 

" The Sunday after St. Andrew's day, 1517." 

Along with this was a flattering reply from 
the Council. Among several letters was one 
to the following effect : 

" Nurnberg, February 1502. 

cc Accept first, dear Herr Pirckheimer, my 
willing service, and my hope that all is going 
on well with you in the country. I have 
been told that you are displeased at my not 
having written to you for so long a time. I 
ought to justify myself to you, but I can give 
you no other reason than that I am too idle 
to write. I know you will forgive me, for 
I have no other friend on earth but you. 
How could you be angry with me, whom I 
regard as no less than a father to me ? With 
joy have I heard that the emperor has re- 



Letter to Pirckheimer. 115 

cognised your deserts, and has shewn you 
so much favour. In truth, I do not know 
how I am in future to live with one so wor- 
shipful as you. 

" You ought properly never to talk in 
the streets with the poor painter Diirer. 
With others of your rank, it would be greatly 
beneath their dignity; but I am happy in 
your virtue and kindness. I am now painting 
a large picture of the Trinity for Matthaeus 
Landauer, which I am sure you will think 
beautiful. My lady-accountant, however, is 
not pleased that I do not get on faster with 
it. I have also thought of you, and send 
you the portrait drawn in black chalk.* 
[Here ivas a rose sketched ivith the pen.] 
" It is certainly a likeness. I wish it may 
please you, or rather that it may not please 
you. Do not take it ill of me ; but I could 
never have believed, that after the blessed 
death of your wife Crescentia, you would 
have taken to such a course. Desist from 

* In the original, i drawn with charcoal.' 



n6 Norica. 

it, ere derision and shame overwhelm you. 
Eemember you are already old, and she has 
lived so long blameless." 

At the end was a great blot, and this was, 
no doubt, the reason that the letter was de- 
tained, and another sent in its place. How 
gladly would I have had the secret un- 
ravelled; for the slightest allusion to love 
awoke in my soul the thought of the Eosen- 
thalerin ; and how much the more, since here 
the rose smiled on me, and Diirer, who had 
painted the Virgin in the Ascension, was the 
mediator. 



WMM 







heimer 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE COUNSELLOR WILIBALD PIRCKHEIMER AT 
NEUNH0F. 

f mong the letters of introduction* 
with which my friends had fur- 
nished me for the journey was 
one to the counsellor Pirck- 
As I had heard so much in praise 
of this man's learning and experience in 
affairs, I was eager to make his acquaint- 
ance. The charms of a summer morning 
induced me to put into execution my de- 
termination to drive out to the pleasantly- 
situated estate of Neunhof, where Pirck- 
heimer occasionally resided, to enjoy by 
turns the delights of nature and of art. My 
poor coachman had not yet made his appear- 



* ' Furderbriefen' in the original. 



n8 



Norica. 



ance since that accident at Erlangen, and I 
therefore applied to my host to find out the 
driver who had brought me hither. The 
lively fellow was soon found, and it was not 
long before I heard my pair of black horses 
stamping before the door. I got into the 
carriage ; and when, after passing through 
the Laufer-gate, we left the town behind us, 
my driver gave the reins to his horses as 
well as to his tongue. 

The road lay for the most part through 
a very beautiful wood ; and when my driver 
mentioned the name of the Sebaldus-wood, 
he added the question, with a familiarity as 
if he had served me for years, whether I 
had seen the Sebaldus-tomb. As soon as we 
left the wood, the church-tower of Neunhof 
rose out of the distance. I asked whether 
he had any wonders to relate of that church 
also, and he shortly explained to me that in 
Niirnberg there were nothing but wonders, 
and that whoever was not accustomed to 
them, might spend weeks and months here 
before he would come to his senses. And 



Visit to Neunhof. 119 

rightly ; for he immediately told me many 
wonderful things concerning this church, at 
whose erection angels handled the trowels, 
and concerning a pool which lay close by. 
As now the gables of a palace invitingly 
greeted me, I was curious to learn some- 
thing of the inmates. The owner of the 
estate was count Martin Geuder of Herolds- 
berg, who had to wife a sister of the coun- 
sellor Pirckheimer. " There they live like 
princes," said the driver; "distinguished 
guests arrive there daily from far and near, 
and every meal-time there is a banquet." 

The splendour of the buildings, which 
would have adorned the residence of a 
prince, corresponded in every part to the 
description I had heard of the expense be- 
stowed on them. The carriage stopped be- 
fore the palace, and superbly -dressed ser- 
vants made their appearance to assist me in 
alighting. As I walked into the entrance- 
hall, spacious as a saloon, two strange figures 
suddenly hastened towards me : whence they 
came, to this dav I know not. 



1 20 Norica. 

The one might be as much above three ells 
in height as the other was under one, and 
both were clad in the same party-coloured 
garments, only that the dwarf had a bald 
head, and the giant, on the other hand, was 
adorned with a high turban. The tall man 
appeared to be twenty years of age, but the 
little one had wrinkles like a sexagenarian. 
Both saluted me ; and as soon as I recovered 
from my astonishment at the extraordinary 
apparition, I asked whether I might be al- 
lowed to pay my respects to the count and 
to the counsellor. I learned that the count 
was on a journey. In befitting manner I 
expressed aloud my regret, but secretly re- 
joiced to be able to speak to Herr Pirck- 
heimer alone, to whom they promised to 
conduct me. 

The folding-doors of the magnificent gar- 
den-saloon opened themselves in a trice, 
and I saw Herr Pirckheimer, whose features 
were known to me through paintings, and 
a pleasant -looking old lady sitting by him. 
I bowed low. Then the tall and the short 



Introduction to Pirckheimer. 121 

man burst into a ringing laugh, and the two 
voices united like the shrill note of a fife 
with the roll of a drum. I now perceived 
that the persons whom I had reverentially 
saluted remained immovable, and only by 
the magic of the pencil had entered among 
the living. Pirckheimer's wife Crescentia, 
whom Master Diirer had here represented 
by the side of his learned friend, had died, 
as the dwarf informed me, in her last child- 
bed twenty years before. " It would have 
been more marvellous," said I, tartly and 
contemptuously, "if she had died in her last 
childbed *but one." I was glad when aja- 
ger,* in a richly-laced coat, released me from 
these two hobgoblins. He asked me whether 
he should send for Herr Pirckheimer, who 
was just at that moment in the garden, or 
whether I was willing to join him there. I 
chose the latter; and he led me into a garden 
tastefully laid out with fragrant flower-beds 
and gay-blossoming shrubs, green bowers and 

* ' J'ager,' literally i huntsman,' a particular kind of ser- 
vant. 



122 Norica. 

arcades which descended in terraces con- 
nected by nights of steps, so that from the 
palace, which had an elevated position, one 
could overlook its whole extent. On the gar- 
den side, just over the entrance, was a high 
gallery, on which many telescopes were erect- 
ed. This was the observatory of Herr Pirck- 
heimer, who, skilled in all sciences, under- 
stood also how to read the language of the 
stars, and from the course of the planets dis- 
cerned the course of human destiny. Above 
the gallery, on an iron pole, hung an im- 
mense pair of antlers, the sight of which 
gave a peculiar pleasure to the old man, as 
he joyfully called to mind the time when 
he disciplined himself by the fatigues of the 
chase for the hardships of war. He spent 
whole nights in the observatory ; but in the 
forenoon he studied in a shady dell adjoin- 
ing the garden, which was called the Her- 
mitage. This, his favourite nook, owed its 
name to a tradition, that in a narrow cave, 
entwined with festoons of ivy, which was 
still shewn there, a pious hermit had in 



The Hermitage. 1 23 

former times dwelt. The jager, who cour- 
teously and intelligently gave me informa- 
tion about every thing, led me thither. 

Already I heard from a distance the splash- 
ing of a spring, which gushed downwards 
close to the afore-mentioned cave, and the 
rustling of the firs and ancient oaks, which 
spread a fragrant coolness all through the 
Hermitage. We descended some stone steps; 
and here at a stone-table, which was co- 
vered all over with books, sat Nurnberg's 
greatest scholar, wrapt in a loose coat of fur 
in the warm month of August. He was just 
then engaged in instructing in the ancient 
languages two boys of rare beauty with long 
fair hair, who were translating Livy. They 
were his nephews, the young counts George 
and Sebald Geuder. Not far from him was 
their mother, the countess Juliana, busied 
with her embroidery. 

The countess was the first to observe 
me, and returned my greeting. Herr Pirck- 
heimer, as he bade me welcome, rose with 
difficulty, as for many years he had been 



1 24 Norica. 



afflicted with gout. But so much the more 
readily his merry pupils, highly delighted 
by my interruption, ran from their books 
to their playthings. The countess retired 
with them. Herr Pirckheimer thanked me 
for the letter which I brought him from a 
mutual friend. 

Wilibald Pirckheimer was a thick -set, 
strong-built man, with a soft round face and 
a smooth chin, but in other respects with 
a thick growth of hair. His eye betrayed 
vivacity, and his mouth gentleness. Far 
from carrying himself high, he embraced 
all with hearty love. Who would have re- 
cognised in this figure which moved with 
such difficulty, the beautiful youth who when 
studying in Pavia and Padua ensnared the 
hearts of all the ladies by his enchanting 
performance on the lute ? And, lo, among 
the books there lay on his writing-table the 
lute, with which he even now enlivened the 
solitude of his Tusculum. Who would have 
recognised in him the stalwart general who, 
in the Swiss wars, at the head of the Niirn- 



Pirckheimer's Studies. 125 

berg troops, won two battles, for which he 
enjoyed the favour of the emperor Maximi- 
lian up to his death ? But even now, though 
instead of the sword he held a pen in his 
hand, a true-born Caesar, he lived in the very 
midst of that war, and the longest of his ma- 
nuscripts bore the title, Historia Belli Hel- 
vetici (the History of the Helvetian War). 
Over and above this, he employed himself 
during the leisure which affairs of state al- 
lowed him, not only in Latin translations 
from Plato, Plutarch, Xenophon, and Lu- 
cian, but also in writing a poem in praise of 
a mistress. And she was called — what? — 
the princess Podagra.* Caught in her nets, 
as the poet related, he sighed, and felt his 
feet entangled, so that he could no longer 
move freely. She who, of high descent and 
scorning awkward peasants, only ardently 
loved those of noble rank, had chosen him 
also among the number of her lovers, and 
allowed him to languish for her without com- 

* Gout. 



126 Nor tea. 

passion. Day and night she teased him 
cruelly, and yet, faithful unto death, she 
will never cease reminding him of her love. 
Formerly he carried the war-sword and the 
hunting-piece ; but she, remembering the fate 
of Adonis, and with entreaties more touch- 
ing and passionate than those of Venus, knew 
how to keep him back from enterprises full 
of peril. She chained him therefore to his 
writing-desk; while he, pierced by the shafts 
of love, bewails her cruelty and sings her 
praise. 

He succeeded not less in serious than in 
playful poetry. And when I expressed my 
envy of his sojourn in this pleasant Neun- 
hof, he gave me the following description in 
the language of a true poet : " Behold here 
this plain, every where surrounded by bold- 
ly rising hills, not rugged and bare, but 
crowned with a sunny and genial verdure. 
Nature has here spread a scene of the love- 
liest aspect and most wonderful variety. 
Here cultivated fields shine with the gifts 
of Ceres, and do not feed with vain hope 



Pirckheimer's Rural Tastes. 127 

the heart of the husbandman. Cornfields 
are intermingled with green meadows, over 
which breathes the perfume of spring blos- 
soms. And therefore this country is the 
nurse of bees, which hum delightfully round 
the flowers. If indeed here, where honey 
flows, wine is wanting, the loss is forgotten 
in the crystal fountains which unite them- 
selves into a brook and glide along through 
the windings of the valley with a soothing 
murmur." In such colours he described to 
me the beauty of the region, and confessed 
how gladly he would always remain here, 
and how he dreaded the impending return 
to the city, as the emperor was shortly to 
visit Niirnberg. I suggested that he must 
sadly miss the intercourse with his devoted 
friends. But he informed me, that they 
constantly visited him; and that whenever 
these failed him, it was his custom to invite 
all the people of the village to a feast, and 
to converse with them familiarly about agri- 
culture and natural objects. He further 
added, how in this manner he had gained 



128 Norica. 

the affections of the people, and what deep 
instruction he had derived from conversa- 
tions with them. " For the philosopher/' 
said he, C€ ought not to be satisfied with ob- 
taining the truths of life from books, but 
from the actual life of men, where it is pre- 
sented in the most inartificial form ; just as 
the artist must learn art, not from precepts 
and rules alone, but from nature." 

The mention of Art afforded me a transi- 
tion to the praise of Durer ; and our mutual 
sympathy in the works and fortunes of this 
man gave our conversation still more warmth 
and earnestness. I extolled the speechless 
yet speaking figures, which had so pleasingly 
deceived me in the garden - saloon ; and I 
asked him whether he had seen the painting 
of the Assumption of the Virgin intended 
for me. " So it is you, my worthy friend," 
he began, ee who have ordered this, the great- 
est work which ever left the painting-room 
of Durer. You must yield it up to me, 
and I have declared myself ready to pay the 
painter double the price agreed on by you. 



The Dinner. 129 



For me the painting has a peculiar value, 
and I would gladly adorn my study with it." 
But when Pirckheimer heard how I esteemed 
this painting above all price, he relinquished 
his request, although unwillingly. 

In the mean time the jager appeared, 
and announced that dinner was served. I 
went on first, and the counsellor, supported 
by the jager, mounted the stone steps with 
difficulty. Princely magnificence and artis- 
tic taste met my eye every where in the 
rooms of the palace through which I was 
conducted. In the ante -chamber my at- 
tention was arrested by a small fountain in 
the middle . of the room, with the prettiest 
figures of bronze, out of whose mouths, and 
hands holding shells, water spouted forth, and 
flowed into a basin full of gold-fishes. The 
water, which pleasantly cooled the air, put 
in motion at the same time a concealed organ^ 
which gave forth tones of low but sweet 
music. As I was admiring the ingenuity 
of the work, the worthy Herr Pirckheimer 
mentioned Hans Frey, the father-in-law of 

K 



130 Norica. 

Albrecht Diirer, as the artist. In the dining- 
hall, besides the well-spread and tastefully- 
arranged table, set out with glittering plate 
and decorations of flowers,* the gaily-woven 
covers f first struck my attention, with which 
all the backs of the chairs were hung. A 
curtain, on which was represented the " Sa- 
lutation of the Angel," was drawn across the 
entrance. 

The countess Juliana, a lady of the most 
refined culture and winning kindliness, mo- 
tioned me to the place of honour, next to 
herself and her brother. In addition to her 
two little sons, four other inmates of the 
house seated themselves at the table, who, 
although in the service and pay of the count, 
were treated like guests. The wines were 
as costly as the viands were choice. 

But neither this nor the enlivening conver- 



* In the manuscript, in which the flowers are named, 
the reading is ' Schmecken mit Feyel,' i.e. nosegays with 
stock gillyflowers. 

t In the original manuscript, ' Iliicktucher, , cloths for 
the back. 



The Wrought Plate. 131 

sation, to which my neighbours, one by his 
learning, and the other by her sprightly wit, 
added a charm, drew my attention from the 
costly goblets and tankards* and other vessels. 
Most of them were adorned with the arms of 
the families of Pirckheimer and Rieter, for 
the deceased Crescentia Pirckheimer was a 
Bieterin. The goblet of the counsellor was 
of gold, and on the cover was a young lady 
drawing water from a spring ; intended per- 
haps to express the wish, that the stream in 
the goblet might be as exhaustless as that 
of the spring. This was a costly work by 
Albrecht Durer, the father of the painter. 
A vessel too, from the hand of the last, or- 
namented the table ; and it was a master- 
piece, although the production of a boy. It 
was a silver fruit-basket, ingeniously wrought 
in open-work, which a female figure bore on 
her head and her hands. Shortly before 
rising from the table, a servant-maid car- 

* In the original the reading is here, 4 Maygollin/ little 
cups ; ' Scheuern,' large cups ; ' Muschkendelin,' tankards; 
6 Handfass,' wash basin. 



132 Norica. 

ried round a singular wash-basin, in which 
all washed their hands, while she poured 
water over them from a silver can. The 
wash-basin, also of silver, represented the 
head of a stag, on whose antlers of shining 
coral a towel hung. That fruit-basket led 
back the conversation to the painter Diirer 
and his works. Herr Pirckheimer sent for a 
portfolio of drawings done by the hand of his 
friend. With emotion, and almost with tears, 
he looked back on his youth spent with him 
so happily and harmoniously. Both, although 
still faithfully attached to each other, could 
not conceal from themselves that a chasm had 
opened between their hearts once so closely 
united. "I myself," said Pirckheimer, "was 
the innocent cause of Albrecht's unhappy 
marriage." In the mean time he opened the 
portfolio, and shewed me a sheet of paper, 
upon which a circle was described. I saw 
nothing remarkable in it, as it was not drawn 
with the hand, but, as was evident from the 
point pricked through the centre, with a com- 
pass. I could not therefore conceive how the 



Giotto's Circle. 133 

circle had merited the verse written under 
it by Pirckheimer : 

" Circulus Alberti, solo carbone notatus, 
Annulus est digitis Norica virgo tuis." 

(The faultless circle of Albrecht, only with charcoal de- 
scribed, 

Brightly, Norican maid, shines on thy finger as ring.) 

The maiden had reference to the harpy- 
like creature in the Niirnberg arms. 

Then my host gave me the following nar- 
ration : 

u I found myself, once upon a time, in a 
party of friends, all artists, which had been 
arranged in honour of me after my return 
from Italy. Some were already advanced in 
years, as the elder Diirer and Hans Frey, 
whose beautiful daughter Agnes was at that 
time the foolish idol of many ; others were of 
my own age, and still younger, as the paint- 
ers Diirer and Wolf Traut. In the intimate 
converse of the fireside many points were 
eagerly debated in the history of the old 
painters; as the trial of skill between Zeuxis 
and Parrhasius, and that between Apelles 
and Protogenes. I told similar stories about 



134 Norica. 

modern painters, which I had heard in fo- 
reign lands. One concerning the old Flo- 
rentine painter Giotto I repeated on this 
occasion. Wherever a taste for Art existed, 
there the fame of Giotto spread. The Pope 
designed to ornament the Church of St. Peter 
with frescoes ; and with this view he sent a 
courtier far and wide to make inquiries for 
the best painters, and to bring him speci- 
mens of their drawings. By these he wished 
to be decided in summoning painters to 
Rome. Every painter desired to receive an 
invitation, and did his utmost to present 
the courtier with some superior work of art. 
When he reached Florence, he first visited 
Giotto's workshop, and made known to him 
his proposal. Giotto, in order to satisfy the 
request of the stranger, took a sheet of paper, 
dipped a pencil in the colour-pot, and de- 
scribed without a break a thoroughly cor- 
rect circle. ' Here is the drawing,' cried the 
painter. But the other, who thought that 
he was trifled with, begged for a better one. 
But the artist explained that this drawing 



Diirer imitates it. 135 

was so excellent that nobody could produce 
one like it. The courtier left him somewhat 
dissatisfied. But the Pope, as a connoisseur, 
decided that Giotto must be the most skilful 
painter ; and Giotto's circle acquired a pro- 
verbial celebrity. I related what had been 
told me, and shared the doubts of many ar- 
tists, who thought, with a shake of the head, 
that the circle might have been good as a 
test of drawing, but that it would not stand 
proof if tried with the compasses. Hardly 
had our Diirer heard this, than he took a 
coal out of the fireplace, and drew on a 
sheet of paper this circle in our presence. 
All were astonished, and tried the drawing 
while they turned it round several times. 
Then a pair of compasses was fetched; the 
circle was measured, and found to be fault- 
less. Hans Frey there, in the presence of 
us all, in spite of the Pope, named Albrecht 
Diirer the most skilful painter ; and gave 
him — miserable reward ! — his daughter Ag- 
nes to wife, with a dowry." 

Thus spoke Pirckheimer. I now for the 



136 Norica. 



first time became aware of the value of the 
circle; which was, as it were, Albrecht's wed- 
ding-ring, or mourning-ring,* a link in the 
chain which held him a slave. Not less 
worthy of admiration did I find the remain- 
ing drawings, which were done partly with 
red and partly with black chalk. At the 
sight of a chalk drawing I was seized with 
a joyful astonishment. It was the portrait 
of a maiden. The hair was black, yet I re- 
cognised the fair locks of Maria ; the eye 
was dark, and yet it was Maria's blue eye ; 
the expression about the mouth was some- 
what older, and yet the same. " What maiden 
is represented here?" cried I, and could not 
conceal my surprise. Pirckheimer was em- 
barrassed, and with a " Let me look at it," 
was going adroitly to take the drawing out 
of my hand. But I held it fast like a trea- 
sure. u I don't know whom it represents," 
said he immediately, in a faltering tone. 

* There is a play on words in the original which can- 
not be expressed in English — ' Trauring,' wedding-ring, 
4 Trauerring,' mourning- ring. 



The Portrait. 137 

Then I observed at the back a Latin elegy on 
the death of one Emilia Eosenthalerin. My 
desire to be informed about this wonderful 
vision rose to the highest pitch ; but Pirck- 
heimer would not enter into conversation 
about it. He took the sheet, and hid it 
under those which I had already seen, whilst 
he laid the others before me with a press- 
ing assiduity. This one drawing continually 
floated before my mind, both when I took 
leave of my host in the hope of renewing 
his acquaintance in Nurnberg, when the 
shades of the Sebaldus-wood gathered round 
me, and when I rattled over the stones, and 
stopped at the door of the Golden Rose. 




CHAPTER VII. 

durer's pupils, woodcuts to the poem of 
teuerdank. 

5T is fate that has brought me to 
Niirnberg. Here I am destin- 
ed to obtain, not friends alone, 
nor enjoyment, nor profit in 
trade, no, but my highest happiness. For 
can it be a mere accident, that as soon as 
I came into the city I saw the Rosenthale- 
rin, and have never forgotten her beautiful 
image? that the same features appeared to 
me again in the picture which Diirer was 
painting for me ; and that it greeted me 
once more at Pirckheimer's, among his draw- 
ings ? Yes, the sight of her angelic counte- 
nance has made me, and will for ever make 
me, happy. She is poor, and I am wealthy ; 
she is young, and I not old ; she is rich in 



Thoughts of the Rosenthalerin. 139 

beauty, and I am full of love. There is not 
a more suitable pair under the sun. A fes- 
tival was being celebrated at my entrance 
into the city ; let a festival mark my depar- 
ture — ay, and a marriage festival. Diirer, 
who knows Emilia Rosenthalerin, knows also 
my Rosenthalerin. He is my friend, and he 
shall be my wooer also. 

Amidst such thoughts as these I went to 
the Zissel-Strasse, in order to return to the 
dear master the manuscripts he had lent me, 
and at the same time, by my request, to put 
his friendship to the proof. Scarcely was 
the door opened, when I ran up the stairs to 
surprise him in his bow-window. I knocked 
in vain at the room-door. Then Hans Du- 
rer came and told me that his brother could 
not be spoken with just then, as he was 
painting from the model. I did not under- 
stand the expression ; but I clearly under- 
stood, to my great vexation, that I had had 
my walk in vain. I was going away, and 
delivered the manuscripts to the friendly 
Hans, asking him to give my greeting and 



140 



Norica. 



thanks to his brother. " Will you not wait, 
dear sir/' he asked, " till my brother comes, 
and look about a little meanwhile in the 
workshop of the journeymen above ? he will 
certainly soon be at your service." 

This proposal pleased me much, and I 
went with him up another flight of stairs, 
where he led me into a large room, which 
was lighted by high windows. Close by 
was another of similar appearance. There 
was much to examine here. All round the 
room were a variety of objects : here shells 
of various colours, there clusters of coral ; 
in one place buffalo-heads, in another the 
antlers of the elk ; besides a variety of por- 
celain vessels and carvings in ivory, coats 
of mail, standards, plaster-casts, and jointed 
figures of wood hung with drapery. But in 
other respects the apartments were not at- 
tractive in their appearance. There was no 
attempt at order, much less decoration. For 
instance, the floor was, as it were, engrained 
with the dust of charcoal and red chalk. 
All was silent, although in the first room sat 



Diirer's Journeymen. 141 

no less than seven men at their work. The 
journeymen were seated at their easels, each 
one before a window ; and in the corners 
were little boys busied in grinding colours. 
Breakfast, which was now being brought to 
them, interrupted them in their work, while 
the maid Susanna went round with a pew- 
ter dish, on which lay large slices of bread 
and butter, and served each one. The work- 
ers were, it seemed, accustomed to frequent 
visitors, and did not suffer themselves to be 
in the least disturbed by my entrance and 
survey. 

Hans explained to me every thing that I 
saw, and told me that Albrecht had brought 
the shells with him from Venice, and the 
buffalo -heads from Antwerp; that he had 
received as presents the armour from the 
emperor Maximilian, and the porcelain from 
travellers of rank out of Saxony. I learned 
from him the names of the journeymen. 
They were Springinsklee, Burgmaier, Penz, 
Herranth, and Schaufelin, whom I had seen 
before. 



142 Norica. 



I went boldly up to the eldest of them, 
although he had a surly countenance. This 
was Hans Burgmaier, a native of Augsburg, 
a very excellent painter and cutter in wood. 
He bowed when I greeted him, and drew 
back the curtain from the upper part of the 
picture which was on his easel. It was a 
splendid work, painted on canvass, and re- 
presented Adam and Eve at the apple-tree. 
" Never did I see more beautiful naked 
figures !" I exclaimed; "I am truly rejoiced 
to become acquainted with so talented a 
painter as you are." " Do you indeed 
think," replied he, smiling, " that I painted 
the figures ? My dear sir, if it were so, I 
would not sit here and eat bread spread 
with bad butter. The master has finished 
the picture, and given it to me to put in 
the ground, and several animals here and 
there. Could I do any thing in this style, 
I would live quite differently from what I 
now do, and even differently from Diirer 
himself." " I know," said I, in reply, " that 
the picture is to be hung in the Townhall. 



Hans Burgmaier. 143 



But I miss Diirer's mark." " Tliat I am 
just now painting." I looked at this corner 
and that, but in vain. Then Burgmaier 
shewed me how ingeniously he had intro- 
duced it. It consisted, namely, in a buffalo, a 
badger, and a panther,* standing one behind 
the other, and which meant ATbertus Durerus 
pinxit. I commended the pretty conceit. 

From Burgmaier I went to a young man, 
who was named Crispin Herranth, and who 
afterwards lived in Konigsberg as court- 
painter to the margrave Albrecht of Bran- 
denburg. He was preparing cartoons from 
which panel-work in the Italian style was 
to be painted. 

From him I turned to the handsome Hans 
Schaufelin, whose image had constantly float- 
ed before my mind as Ursula's bridegroom, 
the pious JEtherius in the purple mantle. 
Schaufelin was amiableness itself, and he 
greeted me as an old acquaintance. He sat at 

* The names for these animals in German are, Auerochs, 
Dach, and Panther, the first letters of which correspond 
to the initials A. D. P. 



144 Norica. 



the same table with George Glockenton, the 
illuminator, and both worked without look- 
ing up. Glockenton had sons and daughters, 
all of whom he kept employed in illuminating 
and decorating letters ; and beautiful missals 
by him were shewn in Niirnberg and other 
places. Schaufelin was cutting types for 
wood-engraving on blocks of pear-tree. Be- 
fore him lay a manuscript of immense thick- 
ness. Glockenton, on the other hand, was 
illuminating exceedingly ingenious woodcuts 
on large printed sheets. I looked attentive- 
ly, first at the one, then at the other, and as 
I was curious to know what the books were, 
and what the woodcuts signified, I endea- 
voured to gain Schaufelin's confidence by 
friendly conversation. A block was just 
ready, and Hans Schaufelin was now cutting, 
in a part which would be little noticed, an 
H. S., and beside it a small shovel,* with 
reference to his name. 

" Are you of Nurnberg ?" I asked. " No, 

* German, ' Schaufel ;' diminutive, ' Schaufelein.' 



Schciufelin's Hopes. 145 

— of Nordlirigen. My father lived in NiirfU 
berg, but my other relations are in Nord- 
lingen; and thither I shall fly too, as soon 
I am fledged." " Indeed !" said I, inter- 
rupting the young man's words with a joke, 
" and yet the song says, 

""The word from ancient days hath come — 
Where dwells thy heart, there lies thy home.' 

What says the fair Afra Tucherin to your 
resolution ?" " Has the master spoken of 
that ?" asked Schaufelin, and touched up his 
block here and there. " Thank God ! " he 
then cried, " my work is finished : may it 
bring me good fortune ! Master Diirer has, 
in fact, promised me, that if I would execute 
the woodcuts with hearty zeal, and if they 
pleased the emperor, he would intercede 
with his majesty in my behalf. Then per- 
haps I may be able to take home my little 
bride. Next month the emperor comes here. 
I hope he will be gracious ! A long court- 
ship, with its hopes and delays, is a bad 
thing." He sighed, and I gently sighed 
with him. He complained to me that the 



146 Norica. 

Burgomaster Tucher would not bestow his 
beloved Afra upon him, till lie had erected 
a workshop of his own, and this he could 
not undertake without assistance. 

" And these woodcuts/' I again asked, 
" the designs of which are so mysterious to 
me, what influence will they have to promote 
your good fortune with the emperor ? Why 
these in particular ? Why not rather an oil- 
painting, like that I saw of yours in Nord- 
lingen, and which represented the Descent 
from the Cross in so masterly a manner ?" 

" Do you not see — (I may talk now that 
the last block is finished) — that these wood- 
cuts will have a particular value with the 
emperor, since they represent his great 
deeds? they have been celebrated in verse 
by our provost, Melchior Pfinzing. Ay — of 
the deeds of such an emperor much may be 
written and sung. One poet has celebrated 
him as Weiskonig;* another has deduced 
his genealogy from Noah's Ark. Pfinzing, 

* Wise king. 



Melchior Pfinzing. 147 

however, has best understood how to exalt 
Maximilian's nobility and virtues. Every 
evening, in returning home from Tucher's 
dwelling, I have constantly seen the lamp 
of the provost in the window of his abode, 
where he was busy upon his heroic poem. 
He was for a long time secretary to the em- 
peror, and had the most intimate knowledge 
of all his great actions and manly virtues. 
e Teuerdank, 5 as the poem is called, is to be 
presented to the emperor in a splendid form, 
when he visits our city. You see already 
some sheets of it here printed with my wood- 
cuts, which friend George is illuminating/' 
As he said this, one of the apprentices, who 
worked at the printing-press, brought to him 
a proof-sheet of the last-finished woodcut. 
" It is without a fault," said Schaufelin, with 
a searching look. "Here you see standing 
in the pride of victory the hero Teuerdank, 
the name given to the emperor, because he 
employs his thoughts on adventures.* Un- 

* ' Abenteuer,' adventure; ' denkt,' thinks. 



148 Norica. 



dismayed he is stepping on many swords 
laid crosswise, which, had been all whetted 
for his destruction. Under it these words 
are to be placed : 

' Treason cannot virtue wound ; 
Valour treads it to the ground.' 

But read here in the manuscript the*con- 
clusion of the poem." I read as follows : 

" Brutes with their proper arms are born, 
The lion's rage, the ox's horn ; 
Man, in his single reason strong, 
Stands undismay'd their threats among ; 
The terrors of their wildest mood 
By his calm valour are subdued. 
'Tis strange, by subtlest wiles beset, 
How our loved hero dangers met; 
And with a pious courage fill'd, 
Compeird admiring foes to yield ! 
And yet he is a man — no more ; 
His safety, sure, God watches o'er, 
That by his arm and spirit bold, 
Our Christian weal he may uphold. 
Amidst the battle's hottest strife, 
Angels keep watch around his life, 
Which else, 'mid peril, toil, and woe, 
Long since had sought the shades below. 
God guard our hero evermore ! 
For we are shelter'd by his power. 
Let us his noble course pursue ; 
As brave in war, in faith as true ! 



Teuerdank. 149 



Here peace enjoy, and health and love, 
And there the rest eternal prove." 

When I had read it, and expressed my 
approbation, he reached a pile of sheets 
(nearly half the poem) which were already 
printed, and the woodcuts elegantly colour- 
ed. To have the work ready at the ap- 
pointed time, the energies of the painter, the 
wood-engraver, and the illuminator were all, 
as if in rivalry, exerted to the utmost. The 
work, however, was in no respect hurried, 
nor its beauty injured from want of time. 
Never had I seen any thing so splendid ; 
the printing alone was worthy of admiration. 
The title was, " The Perils and the History 
of the praiseworthy, valiant, and highly re- 
nowned Hero and Knight Teuerdank. -?? In 
the poem was set forth how, after sundry ad- 
ventures, dangers, and troubles of war, which 
he surmounted by his valour, he at length ob- 
tained the honoured Maria. His attendant 
on the path of fame is a herald, on whose 
mantle Schaufelin had drawn a wheel of for- 
tune, since this it was which had guided the 



150 Nor tea. 

fate of Teuerdank. In several woodcuts 
was seen a man in a red garment, with a 
child's cap. He bears the name Fiirwittig,* 
because he tempts the hero into all kinds 
of dangers. In many of them, on the con- 
trary, instead of this figure, you saw a man 
in armour, with a malicious countenance, 
clad in a yellow garment, as falsehood is 
depicted. He is called Neidhard, and sig- 
nifies the wiles of the enemy, which are 
aiming at the destruction of the noble Teu- 
erdank. Truly ingenious devices ! The ad- 
ventures in which the hero is engaged are 
of very various kinds : shewing how he slays 
a chamois, knocks down two lions with a 
shovel ; how he applies a match to an over- 
loaded cannon ;f how a storm threatens to 
destroy him on board a ship ; how he is in 
danger of poison; how he vanquishes some 
hundreds of his enemies with fourteen men. 
Glockenton had just completed a sheet, as 
he sat silently by us with his muscle-shells, 

* * Vorwitz,' rashness. f * Biichse,' a gun-barrel. 



Teuerdank in durance. 151 

the colours in which, especially the red and 
yellow, were clear as the silver tones of 
bells.* On this sheet was represented in a 
chamber, the walls of which were hung with 
weapons and armour, the hero Teuerdank, 
dressed as a hunter, in the act of seizing by 
the arm a fool, who stood with a burning 
light near two casks. The long-eared cap and 
motley coat of the merry counsellor looked 
merry enough, but his countenance was any 
thing but merry, for he seemed almost to 
tremble with terror and dismay. The de- 
scription of it was pretty to read. 

How the noble Teuerdank^ through a mistake of his Fool,\ 
was in danger of being blown up by gunpowder in his 
bed-chamber. 

" Seek not the bridge. On, quickly on ! 
The fatal path, my sovereign, shun ; 
Within those walls dark treason lies." — 
The trusty Fool thus counsell'd wise. 

* ' Glockentone,' bell-tones. 

f The name of this Fool was Conrad or Cunz von der 
Rosen. He was much esteemed by Maximilian for his 
wit, and very favourably distinguished from the usual kind 
of jesters. 



152 Norica. 



" I fear not what may there betide ; 
Friends will be ever at my side/' 
Answer'd Sir Knight his Fool. Quoth he, 
" Such peril has no charms for me." 
Away went Cunz. Lord Teuerdank 
Rode fearless up the moated bank ; 
And welcomed at the peaceful gate, 
His followers few march'd through in state. 
Sudden the huge porcullis falls ; 
In vain for help the warrior calls : 
The hour for wise distrust has past ; 
He and his men are captives fast. 
His lord's mischance the Fool soon heard, 
And straight his active thoughts bestirr'd, 
How best, deep counsel following free, 
He might achieve his liberty. 
Deep was the moat, but also deep 
At midnight was the city's sleep ; 
And then secure, as in a boat, 
His lord, on bladders borne, might float 
To safety from the traitor's hold. — 
Thus did he frame his purpose bold. 
One night, with dark clouds overhead, 
He couch'd him by the water's bed, 
And soon his purpose had fulfill'd ; 
When, lo ! the swans, a legion wild, 
With flapping wings so marr'd his aim — 
As if from Gallia's coasts they came — 
He could not cross, and back must fly, 
With anguish in his tearful eye. 

The Fool, who had a fertile head, 
Straight to a village barber sped, 



The Device of Cunz. 153 

Studied his art, and learn'd full well 

To exercise tonsorial skill. 

" The joke is good," he cried, "go on ; 

I must have now a shaven crown." 

'Twas thus with seeming jest he spoke : 

The barber too enjoy'd the joke. 

So forth went Cunz with shaven pate, 

And hied him to a convent-gate, 

Borrow'd a cowl from holy brother, 

And look'd as though he were another ; 

With pilgrim-stafT and rosary, 

Soon at the castle-bridge was he. 

" Open your door, for mercy's sake " 

(Thus to the warder stern he spake), 

" And let a harmless friar in ; 

I come to shrive your captive's sin. 

My holy task will soon be o'er : 

Then I'm your debtor evermore." 

His prayer was heard ; and where his lord 

In duresse strong lay deep immured, 

They led him quick : his searching eye 

Look'd round for listeners cautiously ; 

Then whisper'd, " This is dismal plight. 

How say you ? Was my counsel right ?" 

Joy'd was the hero's wondering soul. 

" What ! Reynard in a monkish cowl ! 

Where is thy hair, thou madman, say ? 

Old was the fox, his coat turn'd grey." 

" Hush, hush," said Cunz, "and sit you here, 

That I your flowing locks may shear ; 

Take up this staff, put on this gown, 

And flee in such strange garb unknown." 



154 Nor tea. 

Then spake his lord : " True-hearted man, 
How wilt thou fare in this shrewd plan ?" 
" I will your mantle o'er me throw. 
Cheat you the warders : they did you. 
The hero free, it matters not 
What is the j ester's after-lot." 
" That," said the hero, " cannot be. 
No, faithful Cunz, I will not flee : 
Thy generous zeal my heart reveres ; 
Hence ! be my friend for coming years." 
Cunz pray'd in vain, and back must fly, 
-With anguish in his tearful eye. 
At length from long captivity 
Was Teuerdank by force set free : 
And now with hawk and hound he stray'd 
By mountain-side, in sylvan glade ; 
Hart, boar, and chamois, wolf and bear, 
Slain by his aim unerring were : 
The faithful Cunz, still firm and true, 
Close to his side to guard him drew. 
Once — in the Tyrol it befel — 
Dark night came on ; they could not tell 
Which way their homeward course to guide, 
For they had ridden far and wide. 
Deep in the forest gloom, a light 
Broke twinkling on their gladden'd sight ; 
Thither their wearied steeds they spurr'd, 
And soon a mouldering hall appear' d ; 
Wherein an ancient knight did dwell, 
Like some lone spirit of the fell. 
Right courteous was the aged lord, 
And bade them welcome to his board : 



Teuerdank's Peril. 155 

Yet meagre was the household fare ; 
Nor wine, nor roast, nor fish was there. 
" Spare diet this — well-housed at length — 
To raise my sovereign's failing strength." 
So thought the Fool, vet held his peace ; 
To murmur might the woe increase. 
How he might speed he ponder'd o'er ; 
'Twas plain their host had ample store. 
Around, where'er the eye might fall, 
Rich armour hung upon the wall : 
And on the heart of Teuerdank 
With deep impress the vision sank. 
Rifle and sword, and spear and bow, 
Display'd in many a glittering row, 
With such strange longing fill'd his breast, 
His hunter's hand could scarcely rest. 
His host the sylvan pastime loved, 
And well the hero's zeal approved ; 
So led him the old castle o'er, 
And shew'd him treasures more and more ; 
Here forest arms profusely strow'd, 
There casks of powder safely stow'd. 
With day's long toils at length oppress'd, 
The hero now withdrew to rest. 
Not so the faithful Cunz : his mind 
Dwelt on their treatment ; and design'd 
How from the niggard's cellar'd hoard 
He might refresh his fainting lord. 
Sleepless, while all the household slept, 
With light in hand he slowly crept 
From room to room, the castle round, 
If wine or viands might be found. 



156 Norica. 

When sudden, lo, the casks he saw ; 

" Ah, here is wine !" quoth he ; " I'll draw," 

And bent him down ; with sudden din 

That moment burst his sovereign in. 

He heard the steps ; suspected wrong. ; 

And straight to seize the thief upsprung. 

'Twas Cunz ; and fearful game he play'd. 

" What, headlong fool," he cried dismay'd, 

" A light to powder ! Off, I say !" 

And dragg'd him from the cask away. 

Pale stood the Fool, trembling all o'er, 

Dropp'd on his knees, and wept full sore. 

" How ! powder in the cask, my lord ! 

Sure, 'twas the Devil gave the word. 

Had not your hand my folly stay'd, 

Your precious life the price had paid. 

Oh, let me for this guilt atone ; 

From some high turret hurl me down ; 

Or on the gibbet let me hang ; 

Or on the wheel feel torture's pang, 

While curses rest upon my grave." 

" No," said the hero, mild as brave, 

" No, faithful Cunz, that shall not be ; 

I know thy honest zeal for me ; 

And trusty now, as heretofore, 

Go, be my friend for ever more." 



Meanwhile Albrecht Diirer had come up, 
and very courteously apologised for having 
kept me waiting so long. Master Diirer then 



Dilrer with his Pupils. 157 

went with me to the easels of some of the 
several journeymen, and made various criti- 
cisms on their works. In the paintings, the 
design and the execution of the heads were 
mostly by himself. The young painters were 
not annoyed at his censure, but rather pleas- 
ed, for every such remark contained valuable 
instruction. And moreover Diirer was not 
severe with them. When a bad picture was 
shewn him, he did not find fault, but said, 
" The master has done his best ; but here is 
still something that may be improved." He 
then took his pencil, painted a new figure, 
and took pleasure in making people believe 
that a Jacob Eisner, or some other inferior 
painter, had executed it. 

I looked at all these beautiful paintings 
with genuine delight : — in one, Christ on the 
Cross, with angels receiving his blood into 
chalices ; in another, the Crowning with 
Thorns ; here, the Holy Trinity ; there, the 
Adoration of the Kings from the East. 

" It is not a good thing/' said I, " to wor- 
ship images ; but in your works it may well 



i 5 8 



Norica. 



be pardoned to a Christian, possessed of a 
feeling heart; for you represent the God- 
head as it really is." On which he replied 
to me in a decided tone : " They who at the 
present day despise painting because it en- 
courages superstition, do it great injustice: 
for a devout man will no more be seduced 
into superstition by painting, than he who 
wears a sword by his side, to commit mur- 
der. The unreflecting worship wood and 
stone, however wooden and stony they may 
be ; the skill of the artist is not wanted for 
that. What is set down to the fault of the 
painter, is due to the priest." 

"When we had looked at every thing in 
both rooms, Diirer led me into a small cheer- 
ful apartment, wherein he himself was often 
accustomed to work. Here was a still greater 
variety than elsewhere. On a table stood a 
complete fortress made in clay, with bastions 
and trenches, — for Albrecht studied those 
things much. In the middle of the room 
stood a long table, on which was an extra- 
ordinary contrivance. Upon it was placed 



Diirer's Studio. 159 

upright a quadrangular frame, with threads, 
and in the frame was a small door. This was 
a machine for taking sketches in perspective 
which he had himself invented. When I 
inquired what all this meant, he called from 
the next room an apprentice named Hans, 
called also, from his birthplace, Culmbach, 
and he was by no means the worst of the 
young painters. 

Diirer placed him before the frame, while 
he himself took a lute from the wall, and 
laid it on the table. With a pencil at the 
end of a long thread, lines were drawn back- 
wards and forwards in relation to the lute ; 
new threads were connected with the frame, 
the small door was opened and shut, and 
points w r ere marked upon it with chalk. It 
was a very ingenious affair, which I hardly 
understood. Scarcely, however, had a quar- 
ter of an hour elapsed, when I saw the lute 
punctured on the small door, quite naturally, 
as seen from a front view. 

On a small table in the corner I saw some 
very comical things carved in wood. At a 



160 Nor tea. 

distance, I took them for table -ornaments, 
such, as wealthy people have in gold and 
silver. Diirer, just as though he wished to 
try how wide I could open my eyes, said 
to me shortly and gravely, " Those are two 
models for monuments ; one for a tombstone, 
the other for a trophy of victory. I invented 
pyramids of this form, for the Egyptian 
seems to me quite too clumsy." I lifted one 
up, and read the inscription, Lazzero Speng- 
lero triumphatori (To Lazarus Spengler in 
triumph), and saw a droll assemblage of all 
sorts of beasts, and over them were pick- 
axes, and dung-forks, and other implements 
of agriculture. I took up the other model, 
which was designed for a funereal monument 
for the same person, and perceived a tower, 
which was formed of beer -barrels, large 
pitchers, and jugs. Spengler was known to 
me by a poem in Diirer's writings, as a man 
fond of jokes. " Herr Spengler," I began, 
"must surely be another Bacchus, for you 
have played him a sorry trick; here you 
have chosen for his symbols the appurte- 



Spengler's Triumph. 161 

nances of a beer-cellar; and there, oxen, 

sheep, swine, and flails." Then Durer burst 

into a regular laugh, and said, " You must 

become acquainted with our town -clerk, 

Spengler. He delights to banter others, and 

has no objection to be bantered in return. 

When he smiles, you must beware of his 

tongue ; and when he is serious, mischief 

lurks behind. Every one has something to 

bear from him, yet every one likes him. He 

is an old bachelor, and his motto is : 

' The wise man's wish and way 
Is meat and drink and pla)*.' " 

" Is this himself whom you have repre- 
sented here, squatting in that wretched 
manner on a sheaf? Truly he looks very 
little like one in triumph." 

" No, that is not he. I must tell you a 
long story now, the remembrance of which 
will live in Niirnberg even longer than 
Spengler's name. From the earliest times, 
the peasants of the villages in the Lorenz- 
wood have been bound to furnish the magis- 
trates every year with cattle, corn, and all 

M 



\6i 



Norica. 



sorts of provisions. The peasants have often 
resisted it, and desired to free themselves 
from the burdensome obligation. They 
wrote a very impertinent reply to the re- 
peated summons and threatening of the ma- 
gistracy, i That if their worships wished to 
eat sausages and ham, they might pay for 
them.' The burgomaster then directed an 
officer of the court to visit the district, and 
by his influence and severity bring back the 
peasantry to their duty. As the affair had to 
do with eating, friend Spengler was chosen, 
partly in joke, to execute this office. Any 
one else might have felt hurt by the com- 
mission ; he did not. But how did he carry 
out the affair? The obedience of the pea- 
sants was enforced with success, and, obsti- 
nate as they were, they delivered up all 
they were bound to. When Spengler re- 
turned home to the gates of Niirnberg, there 
were seen in a long, solemn procession, first 
several peasants leading oxen, one behind 
the other ; then followed one wagon with 
bleating sheep and grunting swine ; and an- 



The Wrath of the Council. 163 

other with bacon, cheese, and sausages ; and 
lastly, the recorder himself in a small car- 
riage drawn by four white horses, to which 
the peasants who still remained refractory 
were fastened, with their hands bound. 
With a chaplet of willow round his brows, 
he stood triumphant in the carriage; and out 
of a bag scattered copper coins amidst the 
huzzaing of the boys in the street. There 
was nothing but screaming* and shouting. 
There was a bustle and a concourse for you, 
as though the city were all on fire ! On that 
day the whole population assembled in front 
of the Council-house. There was laughter 
every where, as the train moved slowly up 
to it; the counsellors only, who were just 
then holding a session, were angry, and the 
burgomaster foamed with rage. Immediately 
a motion was made for removing Spengler 
from his office. But the wag gained a still 
greater triumph over the magistrates than 
over the peasants. Spengler, by his unfail- 
ing cheerfulness and his goodnatured jokes, 
had rendered himself indispensable to them, 



164 Norica. 

and, without any effort on his part, the 
charge was withdrawn. Truly he had de- 
served a trophy." 

Now all was clear to me. Around the 
four-cornered stone with the inscription, 
lay oxen, lambs, and boars, with their feet 
bound; above, on the four corners, stood 
four baskets, with sausages, eggs, cheese, and 
butter. One over another were placed upon 
the stone, a pickaxe, a churn, a two-handled 
milk-pitcher and a sheaf, with spades, mat- 
tocks, forks, and flails. At the top of all, on 
a hen-coop, sat a subdued-looking peasant, 
in very miserable plight, on an inverted pot, 
while behind him the sword of justice stood 
out. Comical as the pile was, yet the gene- 
ral effect was very pretty. 

" The other monument," I began, " easily 
explains itself. But pray tell me, is this wag 
of a secretary still living ?" 

" Yes, he is living, and has requested me 
to give him the design for a splendid funeral 
monument ; for he thought that as Pope Ju- 
lius had ordered Michael Angelo to erect a 



Spengler Monument. 165 

mausoleum for him during his life, so he also 
would have one." 

The model exhibited a very pleasing form. 
On a pedestal of stone stood a cask covered 
with a dice-board, on which were two dishes, 
one forming a cover to the other ; upon that 
was a short full-bellied jug and an inverted 
cup, and at its foot a fruit-basket, not, how- 
ever, containing fruit, but melon-rinds and 
vine-leaves. The inscription on the stone 
beneath ran thus — 

" Herr Spengler saw the cask was drain 'd, 

The dice-board rung no longer ; 
No drop within the cup remain'd, 

No food to satiate hunger. 
8 The end of toils,' he cried, ' is gain'd ; 

I yield, for Death is stronger.' " 

While looking at all these beautiful things, 
I had nearly forgotten the object of my com- 
ing ; but now, as we walked out of the little 
apartment, the idea recurred to me forcibly 
to get rid of my anxiety by speaking openly. 
I therefore requested Diirer to take me down 
stairs, pretending a desire to look at my pic- 
ture ; and that indeed was the case. But be- 



1 66 Norica. 

fore we quitted the large workshop, I gave to 
each journeyman, many as there were, for all 
seemed to me to be very skilful and clever 
hands, two good gulden for drink -money. 
They were pleased with this, and thanked 
me, and Diirer also thanked me for my kind- 
ness. 

So we went down stairs ; and when Dii- 
rer politely opened the door for me, my eyes 
were arrested, not by the picture, but by the 
Eosenthalerin herself. She cast her eyes mo- 
destly down, and greeted me so respectfully, 
that my heart warmed towards her. Diirer, 
to my sorrow, led me away on one side to 
the picture, and asked me whether the head 
and the attitude of the Virgin were not im- 
proved, as he had that day worked them over 
again from the maiden who served him as a 
model. Model ! that meant a pattern ; and 
now first I understood what the good Hans 
formerly told me, as a reason for refusing my 
request. It appeared to me strange, that the 
proud painters who form, as it were, models 
after human beings, should call these beings 



The Rosanthalerin. 167 



themselves models. But how could I admire 
the copy in the painting, when the original 
stood before me ? I quickly turned back to 
the beautiful maiden, and thanked her that 
she allowed her beauty to be immortalised in 
my picture, and said many flattering things 
to her, which caused her much embarrass- 
ment. I should now have told her all that 
was in my heart, and have put an end to 
my pain, had not Diirer, who thought himself 
bound to protect the silent young thing, said, 
"My good Herr Heller, do not make the 
maiden blush. Now, dear, go home ; and 
give my greeting to your old father." She 
kissed Duress hand, and curtsied and with- 
drew. " Shall I not accompany her home?" 
I asked quickly. "Why would you do that?" 
said he, holding me back ; " believe me, she 
is a virtuous maiden." " Exactly for that 
reason, Herr Diirer ! For I have loved the 
maiden from the first day of my being here : 
I love her beyond expression." And I re- 
lated every thing to him ; how I had become 
acquainted with her, and immediately fell in 



1 68 Norica. 

love. " But consider now what you are doing, 
Herr Heller/' said the strict master, shak- 
ing his head. " You the rich Heller, and 
that poor maiden !" To my question, whe- 
ther he was her guardian, he replied in the 
negative. "Tell me, then," cried I, in an 
almost supplicating tone, " where does she 
dwell ? where can I find her parents ?" " Her 
mother is among the blessed ; and she was 
still more beautiful than the daughter. The 
first gift which the latter received from her 
— life — she requited with ingratitude, and 
occasioned her death." " Is her father, then, 
still living?" I asked again. Diirer returned 
to this a very undecided answer. In an em- 
barrassed manner, he at first replied in the 
affirmative, and then spoke of the maid as an 
orphan. I implored, I conjured him to do 
something towards the accomplishment of my 
wishes ; but Diirer continually repeated the 
hateful, " Consider what you are about." At 
length my patience was worn out, and the 
more as I heard the slippers of Mistress Ag- 
nes, and was afraid she would again display 



Heller's Suspense. i6g 

her treasures before me. Dissatisfied and 
vexed, I ran down trie stairs, and with a 
hasty greeting rushed past the eager trades- 
woman. 






CHAPTER VIII. 



THE SCULPTOR KRAFFT IN HIS WORKSHOP. 




gtTRNBERG became dearer to me 
every day, and the thought of 
parting ever more bitter. I de- 
ferred as long as possible attend- 
ing to the business which made my presence 
in Augsburg and Regensburg necessary. But 
at last I was obliged to prepare for my de- 
parture, with the firm intention to spend at 
least eight days here on my return. It was 
hard to separate from the lovely Eosentha- 
lerin without seeing her, and only the per- 
suasion that I had done all I could in the 
affair, tranquillised me. I had, in fact, writ- 
ten to Diirer, who seemed to consider my 
attachment to the maiden as the passing 



Visit to Krafft. 1 7 1 

whim of a young man, to endeavour to 
convince him of my honourable intentions, 
and had conveyed my wish in the form of a 
request to him. No answer followed this. 
Though I omitted leave-taking before my ap- 
proaching departure among my friends in ge- 
neral, to gain time, and to spare myself painful 
feelings, yet I felt it a kind of filial duty to 
visit the old master Krafft. Perhaps it was 
a foreboding which impelled me, for as be- 
fore I had not been able to devote one hour 
to the visit, now every hour seemed precious 
to me. I soon found out the " Steig," where 
master Krafft was said to live; and an en- 
trance-gate, close to which a finely shaped 
stone dragon grinned at me, and out of 
whose jaws, well furnished with teeth, water 
streamed forth, left me no longer in doubt 
as to his dwelling. I entered the court, 
and on each side of the passage I saw large 
blocks of sandstone lying, and said to my- 
self, " The old man promises himself a 
long life." Out of this court you entered 
through a glass-door into the cheerful house 



1 7 2 Norica. 

of the master, and first of all into the work- 
shop. 

I had always heard much of the kindliness 
and peace-loving temper of KrafFt, who re- 
presented in his person the cardinal virtue 
after which he called himself. Therefore so 
much the more strange did it seem to me to 
hear him talking loudly, in violent words, as 
though he were wrangling with his people. 
I drew near to the glass -door, and saw in 
the workshop the bald-headed master, on 
whose forehead shone a single lock, snow- 
white, like his long beard. Close by stood 
two people, who appeared to be his pupils. 
One he was instructing in the art of stone- 
cutting, and grew so warm over it, that he 
neither saw nor heard me, although I opened 
the door and entered. A pillar was to be cut 
in imitation of one ornamented with all kinds 
of leaves and scrolls, such as are found in 
old churches. I observed directly that one 
of the boys, who had a chisel and hammer 
in his hand, was nothing more than a rough 
peasant, who might do well enough to raise 



Krafffs Workshop. 173 

crops but not to raise* churches. He looked 
a pitiful figure, with his gaping mouth, his 
crooked nose, and bristling hair, and seemed 
to be sleeping with his eyes open. As he 
was trying to chisel out a border ornament, 
he struck off the corner of the block of stone; 
and when he was going to correct his mis- 
take — the simpleton ! — he hit his hand so 
that it bled. The ancients did rightly when 
they made use of sheeps' heads to knock 
down walls. Yet Krafft shewed and ex- 
plained and scolded, as if he might some 
time turn out a clever stone-cutter ; and the 
great lad cried like a child, as he was pushed 
and shaken by him somewhat roughly. I 
could not comprehend why the master wasted 
so much pains on him, and still less, as a 
good-looking youth stood close to him, by 
whose green apron I saw that he also was an 
apprentice, and in whose looks I discovered 
that he understood perfectly what the other 

* There is a play upon words in the original, which is 
only imperfectly given in the translation : i Bauer,' pea- 
sant ; ' bauen,' to till the land ; 8 bauen/ to build. 



174 Norica. 



would never have understood in his whole 
life. 

Whilst I was pitying this unlicked cub, 
who looked so dismal over his work, I cleared 
my throat a little, and the master looked to- 
wards me. He directly pulled his green 
apron from his shoulders, and hastened to- 
wards me like a man of twenty years ; all 
anger had vanished at once from his coun- 
tenance, and on the contrary, he expressed 
in his looks the most heartfelt joy. Father 
Adam he was called by all, and involuntarily 
I greeted him by this name. He rejoiced 
most heartily at my visit, which he had so 
long expected in vain, and had already given 
up the hope of it. His good wife, he told 
me, would have prepared wine and cake for 
me, but that now, alas, it was eaten up. He 
then apologised to me for the harshness of 
his manner, which, with the utmost patience 
in teaching, could not always be avoided, 
and explained to me the singular mode of 
training which he practised. When, for in- 
stance, he took an apprentice into the house, 



Krafffs Household. 175 

he obliged him to learn the art again from the 
very beginning, even though he had already 
made considerable progress in it. For Adam 
laid great stress upon this, that whatever 
came out of his workshop, should be exe- 
cuted in his own way and no other. In order 
to effect this, he took for some time a com- 
mon labourer, and instructed him, as if he 
intended to fit him for an assistant. But he 
did this only that the new apprentice, who 
always had to stand by, might have the 
opportunity of observing quite accurately 
how he must handle the chisel for the fu- 
ture. I called this mode of instruction very 
judicious, but very laborious ; Krafft, how- 
ever, thought, that if one wished to keep up 
a good heart, one should not let any trouble 
vex one, and that he himself had to thank 
work alone for his vigorous old age. 

He then begged me to enter the room 
which adjoined the workshop, and where, in 
the midst of perfect simplicity, the greatest 
neatness was visible. The oaken wardrobe, 
carefully polished, shone as bright as the 



1 7 6 Norica. 

pewter cans which stood on its cornice ; 
every fold of the curtain on the bed was ar- 
ranged with care, and even the floor, which 
was strewn with sand, had acquired an orna- 
mental character by the sweep of the broom 
still visible. " Eva ! " cried master Adam, 
putting his head into the kitchen; and the 
name struck me. " May the serpent," said 
I, smiling, " never creep into this paradise, 
where Adam and Eve dwell ! " " About our 
names," replied he, " we have had to bear 
many jokes, especially from our witty town- 
clerk, Herr Spengler ; but I have revenged 
myself on him. That you shall hear about 
afterwards;" and again he cried, "Eva!" 
Just then entered the room an active little 
woman, in a small white cap and dark-red 
plaited gown, and, if possible, beaming still 
more with kindness than the old man. The 
news that the long-expected guest had ap- 
peared in me, seemed for a moment to em- 
barrass Frau Eva. But then she tripped 
backwards and forwards, placed a table be- 
fore us, which she wiped down with her 



Eva's Hospitality. 1 7 7 

apron more than enough, took a knife from 
the cupboard, which she knelt down and 
sharpened on the door-sill, then withdrew 
for a moment, and brought back a can of 
beer, a great loaf of bread, and butter. 
€c Wifie," asked the old man, " is there no 
better fare than this to-day?" "Hush! fa- 
ther," retorted she, jestingly; " I bring the 
strange gentleman a piece of bread at least, 
while you think only of setting stones before 
him." From the friendly hospitality of the 
entertainment, the fare tasted to me uncom- 
monly good, and this mother Eva observed 
with no little pleasure. " My wife," began 
the old man, when he saw that I took a sin- 
cere interest in him and all dear to him, "was 
christened Magdalena, and out of love for 
me she called herself Eva. In order that we 
might not grieve over any Cain, Heaven de- 
nied us the happiness of being parents. His 
favour we shall never cease to acknowledge, 
who has preserved us in such a remarkable 
manner." "With an amiable loquacity he 
then related to me, without being asked, all 



1 7 8 Norica. 

that lie had lived through and experienced ; 
and I was astonished to see how wonderful 
the Divine appointments had often been. 

The dear couple had engaged themselves 
while they were yet children. Adam left his 
native town of Niirnberg as a young man, to 
seek his fortune in foreign parts, and to re- 
turn home as soon as possible with a well-filled 
purse. Nothing remained as a consolation to 
Magdalena but her lover's oath of inviolable 
fidelity. Ten years she waited for the return 
of her friend, but in vain. No tidings of him 
reached her ; and her relations, who beset 
her with proposals of marriage, said to her 
over and over again, that Adam would never 
more return; for that he must either be dead, 
or long since settled and married in foreign 
lands. But Magdalena, although so poor 
that she was dependent on the kindness of 
her relations, remained steadfast. Another 
ten years passed away, and her perseverance 
in waiting for her bridegroom drew upon her 
universal derision and mockery. " Maiden 
bride ! will not the bridegroom come soon ?" 



Krafft's Wanderings. 179 

was the saucy question asked her in every 
street by the boys ; to which, " Patience ! " 
was the only reply she could make. Mag- 
dalena's fidelity, like that of her betrothed, 
wavered not. Adam intended to confine his 
wanderings to Franconia ; but recommended 
from one master to another, and penetrated 
with the desire of learning and seeing every 
thing, he continually went further, and passed 
some happy years in beautiful Italy. He 
found every where plenty of work, and his 
money increased every week, especially in 
Naples. Now he thought of returning ; and 
as a ship was going from Naples to Genoa, 
he seized the opportunity to return to his 
home as soon as possible. Winds and waves 
seemed to be in league with true love, and 
hastened the progress of the ship ; but winds 
and waves are deceitful. Suddenly a storm 
and foul weather arose, the ship was tossed 
about here and there, and the ship's crew 
were in despair; the masts were cut down, 
and the lives of such numbers were given up 
to chance. After sailing about comfortless for 



ISO 



Norica. 



many days, the ship came to land, and the 
lives of the people were saved; — but had they 
reason to be thankful ? Tunis was the place of 
terror where they landed; and after difficulties 
and privations of every kind, the unhappy 
sufferers were thrown into chains. Adam 
also languished in slavery, and for many 
years no prospect of liberation offered itself. 
The king of Tunis was at that time building a 
mosque, and as Adam belonged to the slaves 
who furnished stones for the building, he one 
day declared in the presence of the king and 
of the architect, that the foundation of the 
building was badly laid. For this audacious 
speech Adam was beaten with rods. How- 
ever, what he had predicted came to pass; the 
heathen church fell in, and the architect de- 
stroyed himself -on the ruins. Adam's chains 
were now taken off, and freedom promised 
him as soon as he should have erected a new 
mosque, in a given space of time. The king 
kept his word. Without a farthing in his 
pocket, he was conveyed in a ship of Bar- 
bary to Genoa, and then, enduring many 



Captivity and Return. 1 8 1 

hardships, he succeeded in begging his way 
as far as Niirnberg. The bride had waited 
patiently; but although the bridegroom ap- 
peared, all hope of union had vanished; — she 
was poor, and he had brought nothing home. 
Yet the return of the long-desired one, and 
his constant fidelity, roused attention like a 
miracle. He was regarded as a saint who 
had risen from the dead, and, like a saint, 
every one brought offerings to him, as it 
were from a religious impulse. At first Adam 
took the gifts, as he was in want of them; and 
afterwards he could not refuse them without 
hurting the giver by appearing partial. He 
collected so much, that he could not only 
marry, but also buy a comfortable house. 

When Master Krafft had ended his story, 
I begged him to shew me some of his works 
in sculpture, as the Sacrament-shrine in the 
church of St. Lorenz had immortalised his 
name among the first artists of Niirnberg. 
According to my desire, he led me into the 
front workshop, and here shewed me the 
models in plaster of the sculptures which 



1 8 2 Norica. 



adorn the exterior of St. Sebald's church ; all 
splendid works. Strange that I should now 
for the first time observe these in casts with 
all the care they deserved, although I had 
passed by the originals several times a day ! 
.Krafft drew my attention to a very well- 
grouped representation of the Last Supper, 
in which the Saviour as well as all the 
Apostles were portraits of living persons, 
mostly members of the council. I recog- 
nised directly, when I looked closely at it, 
Herr Imhoff, and Herr Volckamer who held 
a drinking-cup, and the master himself with 
his bald head and long beard. I asked hini 
whom he had ventured to represent as the 
Saviour and as Judas. " I gave to the Sa- 
viour," said Krafft, "the features of the man 
who is considered to be the most pious in 
our city, I mean the Provost Melchior Pfin- 
zing, equally prized as a poet and a scholar 
by the emperor. I took as the representative 
of Judas, Lazarus Spengler, out of revenge, 
because he had sported the wicked joke, that 
I had prudently waited, from fear of the for- 



Krafffs Works. 183 

bidden fruit, till Eva had lost her teeth. But 
Herr Spengler was not angry with me for 
it; and consoled himself with this, that Judas 
had only once betrayed the Saviour, while, 
on the other hand, Peter had denied him 
three times; for I have here represented 
myself as Peter." 

In a chamber close by I saw several fig- 
ures in stone, as large as life, of which only 
a few were finished. They belonged, as I 
saw from a drawing, to a group which con- 
sisted of fifteen figures, and represented an 
Entombment. With the same feelings with 
which dear children brinsr to his last rest 
a deceased father, the faithful disciples were 
here seen burying their Friend and Teacher. 
As the sun hid his face at the death of the 
Redeemer, so here the Mother of sorrows, in 
a nun's veil, held her hands before her coun- 
tenance, a trembling image of grief. How the 
Magdalene, with pious fervour, was kissing 
the foot of the lifeless corpse, which she had 
once moistened with spikenard and wiped 
with her long golden hair ! Here was the 



184 Norica. 

bearded Joseph of Arimathea, who with 
touching carefulness was laying the Saviour 
in the rock tomb, and who represented the 
unmistakeable likeness of the artist. What 
shall I say of the principal figure, which was 
among the rest what the Saviour is among the 
Apostles ! This incomparable work had been 
executed for Gabriel Holzschuher, member 
elect of the council, for his chapel in the 
cemetery of St. John. Krafft asked me, as 
I expressed to him my astonishment, how 
I had been pleased with his other carvings 
in stone in the cemetery of St. John. With 
shame I was obliged to confess that I had 
as yet not seen the world-renowned ceme- 
tery and his works which adorned it. Im- 
mediately the active old man offered himself 
to me as a guide ; but I declined his propo- 
sal, on account of my journey to Augsburg. 
Meanwhile, I promised him, as soon as I 
should have returned to Niirnberg, to visit 
the cemetery of St. John in his company. 
Not without emotion could I part from the 
good father Krafft. 



PART II. 

SECOND SOJOURN IN NURNBERG. 



'M^M^t^^^^&t^M^M^f^^l^^^M^k^^Mk 



SECOND SOJOURN IN NIIRNBERG. 



CHAPTER I. 



THE SURLY SHOEMAKER. THE HERREN-KELLER. 




had completed my business in 
Augsburg and Regensburg to 
my satisfaction, and turned with 
a glad heart towards Niirnberg- 
My longing after my beloved was great, and 
I therefore thought I must hasten the more 
quickly and joyfully to the haven of my bliss. 
Foolishly enough ! since experience might 
have taught me that I was no nearer the 
maiden in Niirnberg than a hundred miles 
off. My entrance into the city this time re- 
sembled the former but little. At that time 
pleasures of every kind seemed united to 



* ' Herren-keller,' the name of a wine-vault in Niirn- 
berg : literally, " cellar resorted to by gentlemen." 



1 88 Norica. 

welcome me ; now I met only vexation and 
sorrow. 

In cheerful spirits I drove over a good 
and level road towards the Frauen-Thor,* 
jolted along in a little carriage ; and be- 
hind me four strong horses drew a wagon, 
on which the goods I had purchased were 
packed, fastened with cords and chains. 
Rather more than a mile before reaching the 
city, where the high road becomes narrower, 
I overtook a miserable vehicle which was go- 
ing in the same direction. It was a small 
peasant's cart, packed quite full of leather, 
dragged along with difficulty by a creep- 
ing skeleton of a horse, which even living 
would have seemed to be in its fittest place 
in the wagon. The driver, a youth about 
twenty years of age, with curled beard and a 
remarkably lively eye, in his wagoner's frock 
and shabby cap, looked little better than the 
rest of the equipage. I perceived at once, 
by the blackness of his hands, what craft 

* Gate of our Lady. 



Return to Number g. 189 

he belonged to. He was, as I had rightly 
conjectured, a shoemaker of Niirnberg, who 
had been purchasing leather in the country 
around. As it was my wish to arrive at 
Niirnberg as quickly as possible, this crazy 
vehicle appeared the more vexatious, as I 
could tell beforehand that paying the duty 
on the leather would occasion a long delay 
at the gate, while my packages, which were 
going to Frankfurt, wordd only require to be 
furnished with leaden seals. When, there- 
fore, I drew near to the shoemaker, I called 
to him to move a little to one side, that I 
might pass by. Unintentionally, I said this 
in rather a commanding tone, as we often, 
in haste, forget ourselves. He replied scorn- 
fully, "I might see if I could overtake him;" 
and with that put his nag into a quick trot, 
and the whip supplied what his beast wanted 
in spirit. He might well set me at defiance, 
as my horses were already somewhat tired, 
and my wagon not fit to run a race. When 
he saw that I had no doubt of the swiftness 
of his greyhound-like steed, he again resumed 



: 9° 



Norica. 



his sober pace, and left me slowly to fol- 
low, as though it were a hearse. My amuse- 
ment now was, the merry songs which the 
shoemaker — perhaps in order to provoke me 
still more with his humour — gaily and plea- 
santly sung. I did not give up the hope 
of subduing his obstinacy, and I thought I 
could avail myself of the moment when, hav- 
ing dropped his whip, he hastily sprang out 
of the wagon to pick it up. I got down from 
my carriage, ran up to him, and addressed 
him in a friendly tone. I asked him if he 
belonged to Niirnberg, praised his songs, 
and offered him my wine-flask after I had 
drank to his health, remarking that a draught 
was a good thing in hot weather. But he 
gave me a short answer to all, and assured 
me that in his frock he suffered nothing 
from heat ; and that as to drink, if he want- 
ed it, he would turn in to the wine-cellar at 
the gate. I asked him, alleging important 
business, to allow me to enter the gate be- 
fore him. But he replied, that he also had 
business, and that I need not think to take 



Delay on the Road. 



[91 



precedence of him because he was a poor 
shoemaker and I a rich merchant. He said 
he supposed I must be a stranger. " I am 
a stranger/' said I ; " but not strange in 
Niirnberg, where I am constantly treated by 
every one with the most sedulous kindness, 
so that when I return to my native city I 
shall never be able to praise the noble Niirn- 
bergers enough. And therefore it would 
give me the greater pain, if I were to-day 
to make an experience of a different kind." 
" The Niirnberg citizens/' said he, " are too 
renowned to make a little additional praise 
or blame of any importance to them." He 
had no sooner said this, than he again seated 
himself on his skins, and drove his horse on. 
I implored him, I scolded, I swore, but all 
in vain. He smacked his whip, and drove 
in at the dark gate. Here he waited on the 
receiver of tolls, and mean while exchanged 
his wagoner's frock for a plain dress. I 
was obliged also to stay, and had time to 
observe the gate, and the decorations which 
were set up against it. The gate was decked 



192 



Norica. 



out like a triumphal arch. A gaily-painted 
scaffolding of laths was erected in front, 
hung in every part with chaplets of flowers 
and festoons of foliage,* but the leaves and 
flowers were already withered, and nothing 
any longer in befitting order. Then I recol- 
lected the firing of cannon I had heard a 
hundred times on my way, by which, as the 
people told me, the arrival of the Emperor 
Maximilian in Niirnberg was celebrated ; 
and all was now clear. " Yes, good empe- 
ror, for thee this flowery canopy was woven, 
on which thou perhaps didst hardly deign 
to cast a look, and which I am now forced 
to admire, in order, though against my will, 
to make amends for thy neglect." Thus I 
thought to myself, whilst hide after hide 
was being counted on the shoemaker's wa- 
gon. 

The sun was burning hot, my impatience 



* The reading here is, " die Pforten waren gar kostlich 
geziert rnit Kammerspielen,^ — the gates were daintily 
adorned with chamber-devices. i Kammerpiele' > must mean 
allegorical representations. 



Altercation at the Toll-house. 193 

knew no bounds, and I made another at- 
tempt kindly and earnestly to persuade him 
to draw his wagon close up to the wall, 
which he might easily have done, so that my 
loaded wagon might pass by, the packages 
in which would only require sealing with 
lead. But I got nothing but abuse from 
him, which, as I saw no prospect of attain- 
ing my object, I repaid with interest. The 
receiver of tolls, who had gone away, ap- 
peared again, and stated how much had to 
be paid for the leather. TThereupon my 
man cocked his hat, and vowed he never 
would pay so much. " He knew what the 
toll for the leather was." The toll-receiver 
insisted on the payment of the sum ; but the 
shoemaker stuck to it that he would not pay 
a stiver too much. The latter gained the vic- 
tory ; for it was found that the toll-receiver 
had mistaken fine horse-leather for calf-skin, 
and at length suffered the real nature of the 
article to be pointed out to him. In an in- 
stant the shoemaker nimbly dragged a hide 
out of the heap, and rubbed a corner of it, 



1 94 JVorica. 

and made him notice the smell, which was 
quite different from that of calf-skin. He 
now came to an agreement as to the toll. A 
leathern purse, which he drew forth, was more 
than once turned over ; but the necessary- 
amount of stivers was not forthcoming. I 
had waited an intolerably long time ; and it 
was not generosity which led me at last to 
come forward and declare myself ready to 
pay the money which was wanting. But he 
cried out : "No; nothing from generosity. 
See, there comes my friend, as though I had 
called him." 

I could scarcely believe my eyes, when I 
saw Herr Hans Imhoif as the man to whom 
he pointed. He (having been informed by 
myself of my return) had, with his wonted 
kindness, come as far as the gate to meet me. 
The refined Imhoff pressed the hand of this 
unpolished man as heartily as he did my own, 
who was his true friend. My astonishment 
rose still higher, when I heard that the shoe- 
maker was Hans Sachs, the world-renowned 
poet. I stared at him with open eyes ; and in 



Hans Sachs. 195 



consideration of his fame forgave him half his 
fault; for 

Pictoribus atque poetis 

Quidlibet audendi semper fuit aequa potestas. 

Imhoff mentioned his name to me, and 
made us acquainted with each other ; when 
Sachs was obliged, on account of fresh arri- 
vals, to make way, and drive on with his aerial 
Pegasus. Imhoff called after him, telling 
him to come directly to the Herren-keller. 
My meeting with Hans Sachs, which at first 
had provoked me beyond measure, now of- 
fered a thousand subjects for laughter be- 
tween me and my friend. He described the 
poet to me, many of whose works I was ac- 
quainted with (particularly his capital Jests 
and Carnival -plays), as an excellent man, 
who was only rather irritable. I complied 
with the wish of Herr Imhoff; and after I had 
given the necessary directions respecting my 
wagon, I stayed behind at the gate to join 
him in celebrating our meeting again over a 
flask of wine ; for he represented it to me as 
an affair of conscience to become acquainted 



196 Norica. 

with the Hejren-keller, or, as it was some- 
times called, the great Raths-keller/* which 
lay close by, and which vied in celebrity with 
the most remarkable things in Niirnberg. 

The entrance to this vault lay opposite to 
the custom-house ; but the cellar itself ran 
under the street, and extended as far as the 
custom-house hall. It was a very ancient 
dusky vault, longer than any church in the 
city. Between the short pillars, whose in- 
numerable rows had by torch-light an awful 
effect, lay huge casks side by side, which, 
for our consolation, contained an inexhausti- 
ble fountain of joyousness. Deep and damp 
is the mine from which the noble gold is pro- 
cured, thought I, and deep and damp there- 
fore must the bed of the river be, in which 
flows the ruddy juice of noble wine ; and so 
I gave no place to my dismal feelings. After 
we had been conducted through the long 
avenue of pillars by the cellarer, who, by the 
glimmering light, called our attention to the 

* That is, the cellar resorted to by the gentlemen and 
counsellors of Niirnberg. 



The Herren-keller. 1 97 

numbers and the gaily painted comical de- 
vices of particular casks, we returned to the 
entrance, where the light of day smiled on 
us cheerfully after the darkness of night. 
Near the steps was already placed, as my 
friend had ordered, a table, with bottles and 
glasses. To sit here quietly, after the jolting 
of the wagon, was most comfortable. My 
inquiries after all the dear friends in Niirn- 
berg were frequently confused, through my 
affectionate eagerness. 

In the mean time, the stubborn poet came 
in merry and cheerful; who having, like 
myself, accepted Imhoff's invitation, had 
taken the bridle off his brown steed, and 
thrown him a feed of hay. Full of deep phi- 
losophic thought, he gave himself no further 
care. Sachs pressed my hand in token of re- 
conciliation ; and I was glad to see this. He 
then seized a well-filled glass, and drank it 
off at one draught, with the words, " To his 
health at whose cost I drink. 55 " Had I been 
aware, 55 I began, " that you were the re- 
nowned poet, Hans Sachs, I should have con- 



198 Norica. 



sidered it an honour to drive after you ; for 
they who precede kings are not of so much 
importance as they who immediately follow 
them." " And if I could have divined/ 5 re- 
plied Hans Sachs, " that you were a friend 
of Imhoff's, and that you also could be rich 
without making a boast of it, I would have 
spared my poor jaded horse, and not have 
scorned your wine-flask, for I was excessively 
thirsty." " Nevertheless," I returned, " you 
were too short and hasty ; and yet it is said 
that 

Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes 

Emollit mores, nee sinit esse feros." 

" Poets," he replied, " are the sons of 
Apollo, and have inherited from him the gift 
of seership. I perceived directly what was 
the cause of your great haste, and would not 
allow you to pass me, that you might not 
drink all the wine before I came. 

That you may ne'er repent these acts, 
Devoutly prays your friend Hans Sachs." 

With that he attached himself to me, and 
we were the best of friends, especially when 



Discourse on the Herren-keller. 199 



he heard that I was fond of the fine arts, and 
even meddled a little with poetry. His con- 
versation was as enlivening as it was clever ; 
and I could not yet make clear to myself how 
the unmannerly shoemaker and the learned 
poet could be one and the same person; nor 
how Hans Sachs could have found time, with 
his business, to compose so many poems, for 
their number had already reached to some 
thousands ; and still less, how he could read 
so many works, by ancient and modern au- 
thors. When he maintained an argument, he 
often quoted passages frorn the ancient clas- 
sics, and often from those which I hardly 
knew even by name. I said I should much 
like some day to hear him recite a poem. 
He replied, " this might some time be ; but 
not just now, for he must go home, where 
wild youths, when the master is away, would 
do no good to the apprentices. 55 He drank a 
few glasses more, thanked his host for his hos- 
pitality, rejoiced to have made acquaintance 
with me, and then went his way whistling. 
Imhoff now told me what a stirring life 



200 Norica. 

there had been in Niirnberg since the arri- 
val of the emperor. I earnestly inquired of 
him concerning our mutual friends. M How 
is Durer ?" I asked. " Is my altar-piece yet 
finished ? What is Adam Krafft doing, that 
worthy old man ?" " Your altar-piece/' he 
replied^ u is finished, and Adam Krafft has 
finished his labours too." I looked at him 
with mingled doubt and surprise; and he 
repeated^ that Master Krafft had closed his 
life as gently as he had passed it. His sud- 
den death and his great merit had caused 
him to be lamented like a beloved youth, on 
whose grave the promise of an uncertain 
future casts garlands. Imhoff gave me the 
intelligence with a heart deeply touched, 
and sorrow overshadowed my countenance. 
" Thou hast ill kept thy word, venerable 
master," I began ; " thou who but lately 
didst promise to visit with me the cemetery of 
St. John." " Now," rejoined my companion, 
" you can, alas, visit him there." This ap- 
peared to me a sacred duty ; and I made an 
agreement with my friend shortly to take a 



Death of Krafft. 201 

view of the master-works of Krafft at that 
place, and repeat a pater-noster at his tomb. 

We now left the wine-cellar. Imhoff pro- 
mised to shew me a splendid work of Krafft's 
which was in the neighbourhood. It adorned 
the gate of the Weigh-house, and expressed 
in truth the destination of the building. It 
contained three figures, and represented the 
usual weighing of goods for the payment of 
duties. How attentively did the weigh- 
master look at the tongue of the balance, ob- 
serving whether it told truly, or whether it 
doubtfully vacillated on this side or that ! 
The merchant was seen reluctantly taking out 
his purse ; whilst a boy held a weight ready 
to add to those already in the scales. 

u Examine this," said Imhoff; " it is a 
companion to the Goose-man of your idolised 
Vischer, and my extreme admiration for 
Adam Krafft will not then appear unreason- 
able. But we will not, by a comparison of 
these works, set these masters in opposition 
to each other, who ever lived together in 
blessed harmony. As they emulated each 



202 Norica. 



other in works of art, so did they also in 
works of love, free from envy and jealousy, 
each conscious of his own worth. "When 
Kraift had executed this subject from com- 
mon life, as successfully as he had formerly 
subjects taken from the Holy Scriptures, 
Vischer also wished to shew his talent in si- 
milar undertakings, and produced the Goose- 
man. The novelty of the production excited 
general attention. Many gave the preference 
to this work, many to that. I was thereupon 
the occasion of a brilliant contest. Often had 
I heard Kraift extol the beauty of the foun- 
tain near the church of Our Lady. It was 
no wonder that this work should attract him 
more than any other, since he was a sculptor 
and architect; and no where could be seen 
a more beautiful union of these two arts 
than in this pyramidal fountain, with its 
stately figures. It was his most ardent de- 
sire some day to execute a similar work. 
Eight hundred gulden, which I had made 
in a speculation, I set apart to make Krafft 
happy, and to leave a valuable legacy to the 



Rivalry of Krafft and Fischer. 203 

church of St. Lorenz. Never before had 
Vischer envied his fellow -worker in art 
till now, when he was engaged in construct- 
ing the marvellous Sacrament-shrine in that 
church. Herr Sebald Schreyer, who had the 
charge of the church of St. Sebaldus, used 
every effort to collect, by alms and money for 
indulgences, an equal sum, for which his 
church might be adorned with a no less glo- 
rious monument. Peter Vischer was chosen 
to execute the work. Thus two works arose, 
— Krafft's Sacrament -shrine and Vischer's 
tomb of St. Sebaldus, — one alone of which 
would have sufficed to preserve our city in 
everlasting remembrance. Every one gazed, 
examined, and wondered; but no one ven- 
tured to exalt one work above the other. 
Only two men gave a decided expression of 
opinion. Peter Vischer said, that no more 
perfect work of art existed in Niirnberg 
than the Sacrament-shrine ; and Adam Krafft 
maintained that the tomb of St. Sebaldus 
could never be surpassed." 

With heartfelt interest did I listen to this 



204 Norica. 

narration, which made me lament yet more 
bitterly the death of the old master. Mean- 
while the hours had flown by, and I resolved 
to pursue my way, as the piteous look of my 
coachman could not escape me, and I was 
sorry for my wearied horses. I wished Herr 
Imhoff to step into my carriage, that I might 
drive him home ; but he declined my invi- 
tation. I parted from him, calling out to 
my coachman : " Now, quick to the Golden 
Rose !" To-day, however, I was fated to 
have my progress opposed and hindered in 
many ways. 

Hardly had I reached the Place of St. Lo- 
renz, when a motley crowd of people stopped 
my way. I soon perceived that the Emperor 
was about to pass by; and as I was desirous 
to see him and his suite, instead of turning 
into a side-street, I ordered the coachman 
to stop. Two runners, in party-coloured 
dresses, who sometimes swung their golden- 
headed staves round in a circle, and some- 
times flung them into the air and cleverly 
caught them again, opened the procession. 



The Imperial Procession. 205 

Then came the splendid chariot of the em- 
peror, drawn by eight jet-black steeds. Of 
the emperor himself, I could, alas, only see 
the plumed cap, for he was concealed from 
me by a stout man, Johannes Stabius, poet- 
laureate and imperial historiographer. On 
the back-seat sat the merry counsellor Cunz 
von der Rosen, in a harlequin dress, and 
with cap and bells. He was the constant 
and faithful companion of the emperor. 
Among the followers, Johannes von Schwarz- 
enberg appeared to me the most striking, on 
account of his extraordinary size, encased as 
he was in iron armour from head to foot. 

I asked some people who stood near my 
carriage, whither the emperor was going. 
They answered me with a smile, " The em- 
peror is going again into the little street 
to the ladies." " Is the emperor, then, so 
deeply in love ?" thought I to myself. The 
enigma was afterwards solved. The em- 
peror truly was in love — but with art. He 
went daily into the Lady-Street (whence 
the joke), to the house of the wood-engraver 



206 Norica. 

Rosch, who was known under his baptismal 
name, Hieronymus. The artist was lame, and 
could not go to the emperor, who therefore 
came to the artist, as he was executing a work 
for him. A rare example truly of condescen- 
sion ! Hieronymus was an inimitable master, 
and he it was who, after Diirer's designs, en- 
graved in wood the triumph of the glorious 
emperor Maximilian; a festive procession 
consisting of many groups. The emperor 
found a singular pleasure in such represen- 
tations. 




CHAPTER II. 



THE RED-SMITH PETER VISCHER AXD HIS SONS. 




IVEN before I had been to Master 
Diirer and my other friends, all 
of whom I loved so heartily, I 
betook myself to Peter Vischer; 
for I had something of importance in my 
thoughts, about which I wished to talk to 
him and ask his advice. I found his dwell- 
ing without a guide. I stood a long time, 
as before, in the dark entry, and knocked 
at the well-known oaken door; but this time 
also no " Come in" was to be heard. For- 
merly every thing was still as death; but 
now I heard a sweet full-toned song sung 
by several women. It was a hymn, and I 
felt my spirit as devout as if I were about 
to enter a chapel. At one passage of the 
song, where the voices dropped, I redoubled 



208 Nor tea. 

my knocking, and the door was opened to 
me. 

It was a lovely sight to see four women, 
still young, sitting diligently at their dis- 
taffs, and, that their work might prosper, 
singing to it a pious song. In the middle 
of the room played two most lovely little 
children, who were amusing themselves with 
a kitten, to which they threw a cork at the 
end of a piece of twine, and then drew it 
back again. At this pleasant sight, it was 
long before I could find words to address one 
of the women. At length I asked the one 
who sat next to me, after she had greeted 
me in return, whether I could speak to Herr 
Peter Vischer. " Do you desire to speak to 
my husband or my father-in-law ?" was her 
answer. 6C Herr Peter Vischer, the copper- 
founder." Thus I tried to explain myself 
more distinctly. " My husband also is a 
copper-founder," said she, smiling. " You 
are too young, dear lady," I observed, " to 
be the wife of the one whom I am seeking, 
but very probably you may be his daughter." 



Fischer's Household. 209 

The other three women, one of them bloom- 
ing like a young girl, concerned for my em- 
barrassment, had before exclaimed with one 
voice : " Surely the strange gentleman means 
our father-in-law!" The explanation took me 
as much by surprise as the previous question ; 
for highly as I esteem woman's industry, it 
yet seemed to me too much that such young 
women, on a visit to their father-in-law, in- 
stead of gossiping, joking, and laughing over 
their evening meal, should be turning the 
wheel so diligently. 

"Whilst I still stood amongst them, there 
came out of the adjoining room, to look at 
the stranger, a number of children, girls and 
boys, all merry and brisk, whose fear was 
overcome by curiosity. " Our father-in-law 
and our husbands are busy to-day in the 
foundry, so be so*good as to take a seat till 
the old man comes." So said one of the 
women, and offered me a chair, while she 
told a boy (Anton was his name) to call 
his grandfather. I begged for permission 
to go with the boy, as I wished to see the 



2 1 o Norica. 

foundry, and the old master at his work. 
After she had begged me to take care not 
to hit myself, for the passage was narrow 
and dark, the boy ran on first, and I fol- 
lowed him. 

Hardly had I closed the room-door, when 
the heart-inspiring song began again. My 
little guide brought me through a cellar-like 
passage, resembling a shaft, into a narrow 
court built all round. There were to be 
seen geese, ducks, and hens, which took 
flight at our approach, whilst a goat sprang 
boldly towards the boy and licked his hand, 
out of which she had often taken bread. In 
a corner, behind a wooden partition, a pig 
grunted greedily. Yet, confined as the court 
was, and though the sun found but little 
entrance, it appeared to serve the contented 
family as a garden, for under an aspen-tree 
were to be seen a table and two benches. 
My eyes were principally directed towards 
a building which consisted entirely of rough 
stones, in which one perceived no window, 
but only an arched door, out of which occa- 



Vischer's Foundry. 211 

sionally issued a thick white vapour. Hard- 
ly were we in the courts when Anton call- 
ed out several times, " Grandfather ! " At 
last a man of about thirty came out of the 
foundry, and asked, " What do you want, 
my little son?" Although his hands and 
face were begrimed with black, and his hair 
bristled up as the painters represent that of 
the condemned in hell, yet I was struck with 
the remarkable resemblance between the boy 
and him, and between him and the old Herr 
Vischer. I told him my wish, and he beg- 
ged me to have a little patience, till his fa- 
ther could leave the furnace. I learned from 
him that his name was Johann ; that he and 
his four brothers assisted their father, who 
had no other journeymen, in his business; 
and that the women whom I had seen spin- 
ning together so diligently were their wives. 
They formed, in fact, one family, and lived 
all together in one house with their father, 
in a small space, but contentedly. Such hap- 
py families are scarce, thought I to myself; 
and the story made me both glad and sorry, 



2 1 2 Norica. 



as I thought of the quarrels I had had with 
rny only sister. 

In the mean time Master Vischer, who 
had seen me in the court, came forth — the 
little thick -set man with the curly beard, 
from whose shoulders hung a leathern apron. 
He greeted me most heartily, and said that 
I had come at the right time, as he had just 
now a work on hand. Catharine Tucherin, 
the aged sister of the Herr Burgomaster, 
had just died, and the heirs had ordered a 
bronze monument to be erected to her me- 
mory in the cathedral. " Our Herr Burgo- 
master," said Vischer, " has inherited from 
her a nice little sum; but I do not grudge 
it him, for he is a worthy man, who has 
many to support." His story was not in- 
different to me, as I thought of the bur- 
gomaster's daughter, and of her beloved 
Schaufelin, into whose purse also something 
might have flowed. " Wait here a little 
while, my dear Herr Heller," said the old 
man, " till the greatest heat is past, for at 
present you would be unable to bear the 



Talk at the Foundry. 213 

vapour." He went bustling back into the 
casting-house. I drew near to the door, and 
immediately the smoke so affected my eyes 5 
as to draw tears from them. As I thus 
looked into the workshop, and saw how 
every thing appeared to go up in flames, and 
how Vischer's sons ran about, and the mas- 
ter directed this and that, it reminded me 
of Vulcan and the Cyclops, although the 
old Vischer was sound in his feet, and his 
sons all appeared to be fine handsome men. 
The master soon turned back to me, and said 
that he could now chat with me in peace, 
and that he would rather see me in his 
house than kings and princes, who consumed 
his precious time for mere amusement. 

He bested me to sit down with him on 
the bench, and as it was dirty, he hastily 
took off his apron, laid it on its right side on 
the plank, and then invited me again. " My 
eldest son" (thus he began), " my Hermann, 
a clever workman, is lately come from Italy, 
and has brought with him some most beauti- 
ful drawings. All these you must see. I was 



a 1 4 Norica. 

also once in Italy, and still live continually 
on the recollection of it. Yes, whoever puts 
his foot into Italy, into this boot of Europe, 
draws on three-league boots in art, and will 
soon make progress. The Italians, who are 
otherwise a false set of vagabonds — that is 
to say, the publicans, who would squeeze out 
of the poor travelling journeyman his last 
gulden for a piece of bread, — stand in Art 
above all. All my sons^ as many as you see 
there, shall go to Italy, although it should 
cost me my last stiver." In opposition to 
this I remarked, that highly as I prized him, 
together with his sons, for the sake of Art, 
yet the social life of his family pleased me still 
more. " Yes," said Vischer, " we might cer- 
tainly live more roomily and not so squeezed 
together ; but it may have its advantage ; if 
we stand so near together, we cannot use our 
hands against one another. Yes, we live in 
close contact, but happy and united. My 
wife, I trust she is among the blessed, taught 
my sons the art of living together ; and the 
blessing of good parents pays interest to chil- 



Hermann's Widowhood. 215 

dren and children's children. Look yonder 
at all my sons ; they honour their father, as 
I honoured mine." 

In the mean time Hermann, of whom the 
old man spoke, had joined us. He looked 
pale ; and truly he must never have experi- 
enced anv sorrow, who did not discover in his 
features traces of the most bitter grief. He 
listened to us silently for a while, and turned 
his face away when his father boasted of his 
happiness. " Stranger," he then began, " had 
you come to us a year ago, you would have 
found in our little dwelling five happy cou- 
ples. My wife since then has left me." " She 
was faithless to you?" I asked with sympa- 
thy. " Yes, she was faithless to me — she who 
so long proved herself a pattern of fidelity ; 
home-sickness tore her from my side." Thus 
the poor man lamented; and then I said, 
" So your wife was not of this place ?" " No, 
she came from above yonder, whither she 
has returned." Burning tears followed his 
words. 1 could have wept with him; but 
the old man shook his head and said, " Yes, 



2i 6 Norica. 

the wicked gipsy prophesied to me that I 
should outlive all mine. That is hard; but 
if God sends it, it must be endured. — Nay, 
then, Hermann, do not weep so. Shall we 
in vain have let you take a journey to Rome, 
which, indeed, has fallen sufficiently hard on 
me and your brothers? But no; you have 
certainly not travelled in vain. Fetch the 
portfolio here quickly, with the drawings 
which you brought with you, and exhibit 
them to us, for Herr Heller understands 
it." 

Hermann withdrew. As I heard so much 
of filial love, (how can there be happiness 
without it?) I made the master acquainted 
with the particular object of my coming. I 
brought out the drawing carefully rolled to- 
gether, which I preserved as a precious gift 
from Vischer, and declared to him that I in- 
tended to have a figure in bronze, of the size 
of life, cast from it. Vischer looked at the 
drawing, which so expressively represented 
St. Martin, and then acknowledged that it 
was not badly conceived, and that a bronze 



Heller's Monument. 217 

figure from such a subject might look very 
well. 

u I have been forming a plan/' I began, 
" to erect a monument to the memory of my 
deceased father ; not however a monument of 
grief in the church, but a representation of his 
virtue in some fine public place. Vitam, non 
mortem cogita! were words I read lately on a 
small bronze which came out of your foundry, 
and the phrase exactly expressed my feelings. 
But the following is the reason why I have 
chosen St. Martin. My departed father was 
called Martin; and the place in AschafTen- 
burg where his house was situated, is still 
called the Place of St. Martin. Rich as he 
was, he was equally benevolent, and like St. 
Martin willingly shared his cloak with the 
poor man. And therefore I wish to have his 
image surrounded by allegorical figures of 
charity, — a conspicuous object, where now 
there is only an insignificant fountain. " I 
laid before him a sketch of the latter from 
the hand of an architect. 

Vischer took from his pocket a piece of red 



2 1 8 Norica. 



chalk; and on the leaf of the table, which 
he set up firmly, drew for me many beauti- 
ful designs. In the middle stood St. Martin, 
on a high stone. At the four corners of the 
basin sea-horses spurted out jets of water, 
while their dolphin-tails curled upwards in 
stone. Between them stood four figures : 
first Beneficence, pouring water out of a 
pitcher on some little fishes which lay on the 
ground ; the fishes were to recall to memory 
the name of the master; — then Plenty, a 
woman from whose mouth and breasts water 
gushed forth; — next was Wealth, who bore 
a lapful of coins, and before whom a boy was 
pouring water from a cornucopia; the coins 
were to signify the founder, Heller; — in the 
last place Virtue, who was inclining a cha- 
lice over a chafing-dish ; that is, extinguish- 
ing the fire of sensuality by the water of 
faith. 

I was astonished at his skill and talent for 
design, and every thing appeared to me quite 
admirable. Vischer thought that it would 
cost a pretty piece of gold, and that he and 



Fischer's Sons. 2 1 9 

Herr Rossner might make something consi- 
derable by it.* I begged him as soon as pos- 
sible to send me an estimate of the cost, and 
added, that as it concerned the memory of 
my father, and as Heaven had prospered my 
business in Augsburg, I would spare nothing. 
The work cost really a large sum, which I pass 
over in silence, that my heirs may not blame 
me some future day when they read this. 

Vischer at first was unwilling to cast the 
St. Martin according to the design he had 
sketched, and thought that in the portfolio of 
his son I should find something that would 
look better. In the mean time the sons came 
each and all out of the foundry, wiping the 
drops of perspiration from their red heated 
faces with the sleeves of their shirts. The 
sons were five in number. Hermann, the 
young widower, was the eldest. Peter, the 
handsomest of all, with his long light-brown 

* Conrad Rossner 's business was to fashion or 'burn' 
brass, and he bore, in consequence, the name of ' the 
burner.' He prepared the brass for Vischer 's Sebaldus- 
tomb. 



220 



Norica. 



hair and beard, was skilled in learning, and, 
like Albrecht Diirer, was a member-elect of 
the council. His face seemed familiar to me, 
and yet for a long time I could not make out 
where and when I had seen him. Hans was 
the exact image of his father ; only where 
in the latter you saw a bushy beard, in him 
was only a thin growth. Paul had something 
unpleasing in his countenance, and I heard 
that he was furnished with a double row of 
teeth, — and for this reason he was of such 
a snappish temper. Strangers he received 
roughly, because they disturbed him at his 
work ; otherwise, at home, he was ready for 
any service, and kind. The most faithful 
house-dogs are the most savage against stran- 
gers. Lastly, the youngest, Jacob, was the 
favourite son, the Benjamin amongst his bre- 
thren. We often find that parents love their 
youngest children best ; but he might also 
deserve it, for he was always cheerful and 
of a kindly disposition ; and now he might 
well laugh, for it was the first week of his 
honeymoon. All these sons were cradled in 



Their several Gifts. 221 

their art, and in every thing that belongs to 
copper-casting their father had well instructed 
them ; but, as never fails to be the case, even 
among masters, that one is more distinguish- 
ed in this point, and another in that, so was 
it found to be the case here also. When 
they received an order, it was the father who 
sketched the design of the whole ; Peter next, 
who knew all the poets, ancient and mo- 
dern, and read the former even in the Latin, 
searched through all his books, and designed 
pretty devices, either taken from the heathen 
mythology, or from the Scripture history, or 
from the legends of the Saints. Hermann then 
made a little model out of clay, which looked 
so pretty, that if it had been white-washed, 
it might have been taken for a work in ivory. 
When this was ready, then came Paul's turn, 
who made after it a clay-model of the intend- 
ed size, in order either to take casts from it 
in clay, or to take the impression of it in a 
mould of sand. The youthful Jacob, with a 
file, gave to the cast-metal, when it was ready, 
the highest degree of finish. Hans was a 



222 Norica. 

mechanist in brass, who had long been ap- 
prenticed to the locksmith's business with 
Master Heuss. * He prepared first the 
wooden frame-work, upon which the great 
figures of clay were moulded; and when the 
works in bronze were ready, it was he who 
put together the separate parts with the ut- 
most skill, so that one who had no knowledge 
might suppose that the largest work consisted 
of a single piece, for no trace was to be seen 
of rivets and pins. He was often accustomed 
to say, although only in joke, that he was the 
principal workman among them all, like the 
carpenter among builders, though it might 
not immediately appear so. But what could 
the mason do, if he did not furnish the scaf- 
folding for the walls, and the arches for the 
vaulted roof? So was he also the carpenter 
who first prepared the frame-work, on which 
the others only fastened clay ; and when it 
was ready, set up the structure. 

* Hans or George Heuss was a master-locksmith, and 
constructed the ingenious clockwork at the Church of Our 
Lady. 



The Interior of the Foundry. 223 

Hermann opened the large portfolio, and 
shewed us beautiful drawings of wonderfully 
splendid works by Florentine masters, who 
in sculpture have outdone all others, from 
the earliest times to that of Michael Angelo 
Buonarotti. Of the last-named master he 
shewed us the " David with the Sling," and 
the " Moses with the Tables of the Law." It 
was a delight to examine these treasures with 
artists, each of whom being a minute critic, 
soon discovered the genuine and the spu- 
rious. But much as I found here worthy of 
praise, still Yischer's " St. Martin" pleased 
me more than all, and I adhered to it. 

The heat of the foundry was now bearable; 
and Vischer, who expected his guests to be 
able to bear fire, smoke, and coal-dust, led 
me now to the casting-furnace, from which 
he never turned away, when the casting was 
completed, without a pious prayer. Boys, 
who looked like sweeps, were continually 
shovelling coals into the fire. As I passed 
by them, they held out to me for drink- 
money their paper caps, like those which 



224 Norica. 



the choristers wear at the festival of the 
Three Kings. These prevented their hair 
from being singed. 

Hans Vischer explained every thing to me, 
and I was astonished to see how human sa- 
gacity could so rule the elements. The mo- 
del consisted of clay, fire melted the metal, 
and water moved the bellows which forced 
out the air. The foundry was a lofty vault, 
in the middle of which rose up a tower-like 
chimney. To this adjoined another vaulted 
building, where, besides a work in bronze, 
(the monument of an Archbishop of Magde- 
burg,) were to be found the models, some 
large and some small, of most of his works, 
such as a statue of Apollo, and the Apostles 
from the Tomb of St. Sebaldus. The first 
did not seem to me quite in the antique style, 
and I expressed my opinion. Paul — that was 
the churlish one — stared at me, and said, 
" Every thing may have fault found with it. 
Hermann has lately told us a pleasant little 
story of the great Michael Angelo, when he 
had finished and erected the large statue of 



Recognition of Peter. 225 

David. A senator saw the same, and de- 
clared that the nose was much too large. The 
artist quickly took up a chisel, and ascended 
the scaffolding to correct the fault ; but he 
only appeared to apply the steel, and strewed 
marble-dust below. Suddenly the senator 
called out, ' Stop ! now all is right/ The 
senator saw the long nose no more — but the 
artist did." 

The remark annoyed me ; but as I read 
displeasure in every countenance, I could not 
make any answer, and quickly turned to ad- 
dress the younger Peter. I had continually 
plagued myself with the question where I 
could have seen him; now, at the mention of 
the name David, it occurred to me, and I be- 
gan : " Were not you the one who, at the 
festival of St. Sebaldus, wore the red cloak, 
and had a golden crown on your head, and 
played the lyre ? Yes, you represented King 
David in the festal procession." The old 
Vischer answered in the affirmative, and in- 
formed me that he might well perform the 
part of that singer, as he was skilled in the 



226 Norica. 

art of a master-singer, and once already had 
obtained the prize. I had heard much at 
home of the delightful art of the Master-sing- 
ers, and of the renowned Hans Sachs. So 
much the more pleasing therefore was the 
intelligence, that shortly a meeting of the 
singing-school would be held in honour of 
the emperor. The young Peter, whom I 
constantly grew more fond of, promised to 
fetch me and take me to it. In joy and 
peace I then parted from the Vischer family, 
and from Paul too. 





CHAPTER III. 



THE WOOD-CARVER, VEIT STOSS. 




urixg my stay in Niirnberg, no 
saint had so much reason to be 
satisfied with my devotion as St. 
Sebaldus. I had taken up my 
station at his tomb, and day by day had I 
paid my devotion to it ; nor could I, when I 
beheld the monument, tear myself away from 
it, uncertain, however, whether it did more 
honour to the saint or to the admirable Peter 
Vischer. More and more did I admire the 
bronze structure, with its larger and smaller 
figures, its shafts and arches, its gables and 
turrets; and, however great my esteem for 
painting, I still thought that Christian sculp- 
ture of this kind might well assert its right 
to a place by its side. 

As I was one day on my pilgrimage to St. 



228 Norica. 

Sebaldus' churchy an old man, whose steps 
were also thitherward bent, came up with 
me. He wore a shabby grey coat; and I 
perceived already, while he was yet far off, 
by his uncertain step, and by the manner in 
which he felt his way with a long stick, that 
he must be blind. Although his eye was 
closed, yet a benevolent expression was not 
wanting to his countenance ; and he seemed, 
by his smooth grey hair and his long beard, 
to inspire with reverence the passers-by, who 
all made way for him. I saw that the man, 
equally with myself, belonged to the regular 
church-goers; for, without feeling around, 
he reached the steps at the entrance, and 
walked quickly in at the door without strik- 
ing against it. To see persons afflicted like 
this poor man, who was bereft of the precious 
gift of sight, engaged in prayer, had always 
to me something attractive, since in such 
prayer is genuine fervour, and not the mere 
piety of custom. I felt myself on this ac- 
count more than usually impelled, on this 
day, to visit the interior of the church ; and 



Veit St oss. 229 



I saw the old man go straight up to the high 
altar. The sacristan was putting things in 
order again, as mass had just been performed, 
and the old man called to him, cc Matthew, 
is it you?" " Coming directly, father," he 
replied, and placed the steps, which he had 
used when extinguishing the lights, before 
the altar. The blind man fearlessly ascended 
the steps. Pity, however, seized me, and I 
sprang to his side, to support him and guard 
him from falling. But he had succeeded in 
ascending the altar without my aid. On this 
altar, which was afterwards adorned by a 
painting of Dvirer's, stood a high crucifix, 
carved in wood, in truth an incomparable 
work. The naked Saviour, who, with the 
crown of thorns upon his head, looking up to 
heaven, breathed out his soul in the words, 
" Father, forgive them !" was particularly 
to be admired for the accuracy and precision 
with which all the sinews and veins were 
marked. It was a touching spectacle to see 
how the blind man embraced the cross, and 
passed his fingers lightly over the feet of 



230 Norica. 

the Mediator, which were fastened the one 
over the other with a nail. He raised him- 
self on his toes, in order to reach the knees 
of the image, and in tender love to touch 
them. We may well pardon a little super- 
stition, thought I to myself, in one so af- 
flicted, if he thinks that the blood of Christ, 
who made the blind to see, will flow over 
him and cure him. I thought he would (as 
we often see done by people among the lower 
classes,) kiss the image while worshipping; 
but he did not move his lips, and only con- 
tinued to feel the well-formed feet and knees, 
as though he were examining them. I turned 
to the sacristan with a look of inquiry, who 
told me that the old man, for the last three 
years, since he had become blind, had daily 
visited the church to delight himself with 
the image. The old man was Veit Stoss, 
formerly the most renowned wood-carver in 
Niirnberg, and the crucifix was his last 
work. After he had executed many admir- 
able things, he received a commission for 
this work, and devoted himself to it with 



His Blindness. 231 

holy zeal. With every morning prayer, he 
implored God, with tears in his eyes, to give 
him strength to render this work worthy the 
holiness of its subject, and then he would be 
well content never to succeed in any thing 
else. His figure of Christ was successful, 
and he became blind. 

As the crucifix had lost something of the 
beauty of its appearance from the smoke of 
the wax-lights, I had directed less attention 
to it than I ought to have done. But the 
name of Veit Stoss was nevertheless not 
unknown to me, since I was immediately 
reminded of the large carved image in the 
church of St. Lorenz. 

Meanwhile the old man had safely de- 
scended from the altar, and at once opened 
his heart to me, as the blind generally soon 
attach themselves. He was pleased that I 
took interest in his fate, but still more that I 
expressed my admiration of his masterpiece. 
" You will hardly believe me," he began, 
" but I would not wish for my eye-sight 
again, were this work to be the price of it ; 



232 Norica. 

for one never succeeds twice in snch works. 
The recollection of it pleasingly illuminates 
my eternal night. Only in the beginning 
of my affliction, when I felt my hand firm, 
my imagination fertile, my knife sharp, did 
melancholy and despair sometimes seize me. 
With the same knife with which I had here- 
tofore striven to immortalise my life, I would 
many a time have destroyed it, and cut my 
throat. Happy for me that I had a faithful 
wife and beloved foster-child, who prevented 
such a fate ; till at length my despondency 
changed to composure, and my composure to 
joy." I gave him to understand that Veit 
Stoss appeared to me equally great as an 
artist and as a man. As I had been pleased 
with the crucifix, he thought I might not dis- 
like to become acquainted with other works 
of his; and as he discovered from my pronun- 
ciation that I was a stranger, he asked me 
whether I had seen the Salutation of the An- 
gel in the church of St. Lorenz. I replied in 
the affirmative ; but added that I should go 
again directly to the church of St. Lorenz, 



His Books. 233 



that I might once more admire the exquisite 
art of the work, as the carving there had ac- 
quired a new interest for me, since I had be- 
come acquainted with the artist. " I will be 
your guide there/' said the good old man, " if 
you will not object on account of my beggar's 
cloak, for I live not far from that church." 
w No, indeed," returned I, with a smile; "but 
it is somewhat strange that you should be a 
guide to me, who have the use of my eyes. 
But we must; first of all, strengthen ourselves 
for the walk : I see here a wine-cellar, at 
which we can refresh ourselves. Conie, fa- 
ther, I will lead you down the steps." He 
then assured me that he had never drunk 
wine, and declined my offer. 

I found in the old man a touching child- 
like simplicity and innocence of manner. He 
had always loved a retired quiet life, and had 
only been deterred from shutting himself up 
in the cell of a monk by the idea, that the 
hours spent in devotion would have with- 
drawn him too long from his labours as an 
artist. He had never sought society, seldom 



234 Norica. 

even that of a single friend. He called all 
artists his friends, and estimated the value of 
their friendship by that of their works. He 
had married a wife to relieve him from do- 
mestic cares, so that he might devote himself 
entirely to art. In former times he had been 
frugal of his words ; now he talked much, 
and worked with his tongue, since he could 
no longer do so with his hands. 

The old man excited my sympathy in the 
highest degree, and I did not fail to put 
questions, which were answered with pleasing 
openness. On my inquiring from whom he 
had learned his art, he placed before me a 
sketch of his life. 

" My master was a sculptor in Cracow, at 
once my father and my benefactor. A certain 
sanctity attaching to his memory prevents 
my doubting that he was as distinguished in 
art as he was in beneficence. He was once 
passing through a wood near Cracow, where 
a poor shepherd-boy was feeding his sheep 
and ingeniously cutting pipes. His atten- 
tion was attracted towards him. He took me 



His early History. 235 

with him, and brought me up as his own son. 
My foster-father died without seeing those 
hopes fulfilled which my industry and ability 
had led him to entertain. I diligently carved 
figures of saints, coloured them with paint, 
and heightened their attractions by gilded 
decorations. They were set up far and wide 
in the churches of Poland and Hungary. My 
fame was so great that the king of Portugal 
himself sent me an order for two images, an 
Adam and Eve. When these were taken 
out of the chest in which they were packed, 
the king assembled all the artists in his 
kingdom to see them, and give their opinions 
of them. The figures were of the size of life, 
and the truth of nature so far attained, that 
the artists, struck with surprise ^ were awed, 
looked fixedly at them, and were silent. Then 
said the king with a smile, c Who can do 
what Master Veit Stoss can ? for he turns 
wood into men, and men into statues.' I 
might now have heaped up riches, but I did 
not yet know the value of money ; I kept 
what would supply my simple wants, and 



236 Norica. 



gave the rest to the poor. It was not gold 
but fame that I strove to acquire ; and with 
this view I resolved to go on my travels. 
Before I quitted Cracow, I divided all I had 
among the poor, and with one coat no better 
than this, and this staff, I set forth on my 
journey, fall of confidence. I found employ- 
ment every where; and came, it is now nine- 
teen years ago, safe and sound to Nurnberg. 
My esteem for the artists of this place — with 
shame I confess my injustice — was very mo- 
derate, much as I had heard of their renown 
in other lands. They spoke to me flattering- 
ly of my carved works ; but I felt myself as 
little honoured by this as aggrieved by many 
a censure. I had to pay hard for my con- 
ceit, when I once saw in the Townhall the 
Four Apostles of Diirer, truly divine pic- 
tures. I would fain have prostrated myself 
before them, and smote upon my breast, and 
cried, ' God be merciful to me a sinner !' All 
that I attempted seemed to me worthless and 
ugly. More than ten times had I carved the 
figures of Paul and Peter, the latter with the 



Admiration of Nilrnberg Art. 237 

keys, the former with the sword ; but in 
Diirer^s life-like pictures did I for the first 
time see their whole being expressed. Yes, 
so looked the beloved disciple, and so the 
terrible Saul. My humility continually in- 
creased, when now, even in other paintings 
of Diirer, which I had hitherto contemptu- 
ously overlooked, inimitable beauties forced 
themselves on my attention, and when I per- 
ceived in the works of Vischer and Krafft 
a touching and natural truthfulness, and in 
my own works in wood a wooden clumsi- 
ness, without either grace or dignity. The 
figure on which I was then at work, a St. 
Lorenz, I flung scornfully into the fire, for 
which only it was fit, and warmed myself 
at the flame of its martyrdom. I now suf- 
fered my implements for carving to grow 
rusty, and seized a pencil and graving-tool, 
resolved that Diirer should share his fame 
with me. Without instruction, undeterred by 
a thousand unfortunate attempts, the greatest 
difficulties yielded to my zeal. Even Diirer 
himself, whose friendship I now sought, could 



23 8 Norica. 

not withhold his admiration of my works, 
however often he might shake his head at 
my resolution to abandon sculpture. At that 
time the city was exhausting itself in the 
praises of KrafFt's Sacrament -shrine, and 
soon after of Vischer's Tomb of St. Sebaldus; 
and I could not but join in praising these 
works aloud, though in secret I wept burn- 
ing tears. Herr Hans Tucher, a pious man, 
the father of our burgomaster, ordered of me 
about this time a carved image which might 
worthily take its place by the side of Krafft's 
monument of art for the decoration of the 
church of St. Lorenz. Albrecht Diirer had 
thus contrived it. Then the Mother of Grace 
illuminated my mind after a prayer, and I 
sharpened my knife and wrought day and 
night at the Heavenly Salutation in a grand 
and elevated style. Yes, I celebrated, like 
the phoenix, my second birth. My fame re- 
sounded afar, and with the names of Adam 
Krafft and Peter Vischer, that of Veit Stoss 
was not forgotten. The brilliancy of my last 
work, the Son of God, was too great ; it ex- 



The Salutation in St. Lorenz. 239 

tinguished the light of my eyes. I do not 
complain ; after many days of joy, one may 
well bear one night of sorrow ; for the period 
of my blindness is but for a night." 

" But how do you live, enviable old man, 
to be so cheerful V 9 

" I require little/' he replied ; " and for- 
merly, when I laboured with indefatigable 
zeal, and often forgot my meals, I accus- 
tomed myself frequently to bear with hun- 
ger. I owe my present support to a foster- 
daughter, for whom a rich man pays me a 
considerable sum. My dwelling costs me 
nothing, since I live in the Spital. Thus I 
am free from care, and may well live to be 
a hundred years old." 

Amid such discourse we had reached the 
church of St. Lorenz, and I could never 
sufficiently admire the ease with which 
the blind man knew how to find his way 
every where. We passed by the Sacrament- 
shrine, by which ImhofT has raised an eter- 
nal monument to himself, and stood for a 
long time in the centre of the church, over 



240 Norica. 

which the glorious workmanship in wood 
hung from the roof, and then walked round 
it, to survey this masterpiece on every side. 
The whole was at least ten feet in height. 
Under a circlet sits the Eternal Father, with 
his crown and sceptre, in divine majesty, 
and his rays descend on the Virgin, who, in 
the attitude of prayer, is filled with both joy 
and fear at the message of the angel. These 
figures were in lovely union, encircled by 
a garland which alone might be called a 
crown of glory for the head of the artist. No 
pierced gold -work could be more elegant 
and ingeniously wrought. I did not clearly 
understand the meaning of the serpent, which 
I saw coiling itself round the lower part of 
the garland, with the apple in its mouth ; and 
when I asked its meaning, Veit expressed 
himself in the following terms. 

" From my earliest years the songs of the 
master- singers had exercised over me a ma- 
gical power. When I had in vain attempted 
to form a conception of this or that miracle, 
in order to reproduce it in an image, I threw 



Veifs Study of the Master-Singers. 241 

open my song-book, into which I had, with 
much labour, on festival evenings, trans- 
cribed a collection of songs, — and I found 
counsel there. In the spiritual songs of 
praise we find similitudes of deepest mean- 
ing, in which the discordant dies away into 
harmony, and our doubts are silenced, as 
restless children are cradled to sleep with 
songs. There, for instance, the Trinity is 
compared to a harp, in which wood, cord 
and finger together yield one tone ; or to the 
nutmeg, in which the shell, the fibre and 
the kernel are equally valuable. Christ was 
called the rare unicorn, which cannot be cap- 
tured by all our efforts, but which sponta- 
neously draws near to a virgin of purity, and 
falls asleep on her lap. By his cry on the 
cross, the Redeemer made us alive, as the 
lion roars his young ones into life. The 
virginity of Mary is conceived of under the 
image of glass, through which the light of 
the sun shines without disturbing it ; her 
conception under that of the fire, in which 
the Lord descended to Moses, without con- 



242 Norica. 

suming the bush. Many such beautiful 
images were devised by these brave singers, 
and especially Conrad of Wiirzburg. ' By 
the Ave/ said he, c was Eve overcome. As, 
by her disobedience, Eve ruined the world 
under the old covenant, so, under the new, 
has the Ave undone the curse.' Thus, you 
see, honoured sir, in my work, the serpent 
coils itself up at the feet of Mary as con- 
quered, when the words, c Blessed art thou, 
pious maid !' are uttered." 

I knew not whether most to praise the 
conception or the execution of the work; and 
the old man did not seem indifferent to my 
approbation. He invited me to accompany 
him to his house, that I might see another 
elaborate piece of carving. I went with him. 
Now I perceived that he had not been in ear- 
nest, when he said he lived near the church of 
St. Lorenz, for we turned back to the King's- 
bridge, over which we had come. " There," 
said he, " you see the Hospital of the Holy 
Ghost." The building had already attracted 
my attention by its architecture and its cheer- 



Veifs Dwelling. 243 

ful situation. It rested, in fact, on two lofty 
arches, which crossed one arm of the Pegnitz 
to the large island; and on its front gable 
the trees of a pleasant garden cast their green 
shadow. 

We had soon reached Veit's dwelling, and 
mounted to his small room by two inconve- 
nient nights of stairs. The blind man sup- 
ported me with kindly attention, to save me 
from stumbling. I perceived that some one 
opened the room-door a little, and then sud- 
denly slipped away. Nor did this escape my 
companion, and he murmured, " What is the 
girl about ? She was always wont to spring 
forward to meet me." 

A square piece of carved work, which I 
saw fastened into a wall, was no small trea- 
sure in the poor little chamber; I did not 
yet suspect that it concealed a treasure far 
greater. The work represented the crowning 
of Mary. With what humility did the Vir- 
gin kneel with folded hands, while God the 
Father and God the Son, with the tokens 
of earthly majesty, placed the crown on her 



D 



244 Norica. 

head ! Who that beheld her but must wor- 
ship, even as the angels who were repre- 
sented above her ! " How great would be 
the price of this work ?" I asked, like a true 
tradesman. But he answered me, that he 
could not part with it, for it was as much 
his delight as his fiddle to the blind musi- 
cian, and the handling of it did him good, 
like the tones of a harp. "Daughter mine," 
cried the old man, " come now. Thou near- 
est I have a visitor ; come and set a stool for 
the gentleman." 

Bashfully then did the sweet maiden, 
with fair hair and angel mien, come forth 
with hesitating steps, clad in simple house- 
hold attire, — the Bosenthalerin, — and with 
her the joy of my heart. She curtsied and 
placed a rush -bottomed chair by the side 
of the white-scoured table of linden-wood. 
" This is the gentleman, dear father," she 
whispered to the old man, " who sent you 
the ducat on the feast of St. Sebaldus." 
Master Veit thanked me with emotion ; and 
my tongue was now loosened, and I unreser- 



The Rosenthalerin. 245 

vedly confessed to him the feelings that had 
so long filled my heart. Maria disappeared ; 
perhaps she only hid herself to conceal the 
blushes on her cheeks, which shamed the 
scarlet of her bodice. The old man was 
greatly moved when I told him who I was, 
as well as my prosperous circumstances and 
my honourable intentions. " Does friend 
Diirer know of this?" he asked; "I received 
the maiden from him, and she has lived with 
me sixteen years — the whole of her life. She 
is a good and pious child. To part from her 
would be sad, did I not feel that her happi- 
ness would be mine. Oh, that I could reward 
her love! Yes — if you ever actually take 
the maiden, you must take this carved work 
with her; it shall be my bridal present." He 
wiped away the tears from his darkened eyes, 
but they were tears of joy. " Call Maria 
hither/' I earnestly besought the old man, 
fC that she may declare whether her feelings 
correspond with mine. Let this day be the 
brightest of my life !" Veit immediately 
desired her to come in; but she, instead of 



246 Norica. 

making her appearance, hastened out of the 
chamber down the stairs, and ran away. 
" For the first time," said the old man, with 
a serious countenance, " is the maiden dis- 
obedient." But I was not angry with her, 
for I loved her too well. 




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CHAPTER IV. 

THE EMPEROR MAXIMILIAN I. THE TRIUMPHAL CAR, 
A FRESCO BY DURER IN THE TOWNHALL. 

lbeeciit Durer was now obliged 
to give the time which he usually 
devoted to friendship, to the ser- 
vice of the emperor ^ at whose cas- 
tle he was in daily attendance. One day the 
young Hans Durer came to me with a greet- 
ing from his brother, and a request that I 
would present myself on Thursday* afternoon 
in the Townhall, if I wished to see the paint- 
ing and also the emperor, as his majesty 
intended to be there at that time. I gladly 
accepted the invitation, as I was curious to 
see the oil-paintings there, but principally 
the fresco in the large hall, of the renown 

* "Whitsuntide (Pfinztag). 



248 - Norica. 

of which I had already heard much in Frank- 
furt, although it was not yet finished. Al- 
brecht Diirer had here painted the trium- 
phal procession of that high-minded ruler, 
Maximilian. To have so close a view of this 
man, the flower of knighthood, the star of 
the century, had no small attraction for me. 

When the day appeared, and I saw from 
my window some counsellors already slowly 
ascending the steps of the Townhall, I 
dressed myself with great care, and thought 
it time to go over. Nothing is more annoy- 
ing to me than dress, and so it happened 
that I walked out of the house-door in rather 
a grave mood. Already many people were 
standing about in motley groups, who were 
all curious to see the emperor, when his 
coach should stop before the Townhall. I 
threaded my way with difficulty through the 
crowd of spectators, when a cheerful greet- 
ing gave me a joyful surprise. It was the 
handsome youth Hans Schaufelin, and on his 
arm the fair Afra Tucherin. The maiden's 
manner became her well, as she greeted me 



Schciaf din's Betrothal. 249 

like an old acquaintance, when her bride- 
groom had mentioned my name. " Guess, 
now, honoured Herr Heller," said he with 
a bright look, " whither our way is leading 
us? Yonder, to the priest's house, to ar- 
range our betrothal." iC All happiness to 
you!" cried I with my whole heart; " then 
your art has succeeded?" " Yes, it has 
succeeded," was his answer, which I might 
have already discovered in the maiden's eye. 
t€ The emperor has made me as happy as he 
would wish to make the whole world." "Yes, 
joy and sorrow," said Afra; " for a short time 
ago my aunt Catharina died in Eegensburg." 
Of that I had already heard from Peter 
Vischer, and also that she had kindly re- 
membered the Tucher family. I could not 
therefore but express my sympathy with the 
mourner. The continually increasing throng 
of eager spectators separated us from one 
another, and I whispered to myself, not with- 
out envy, " Good emperor, if you could but 
make me as happy !" 

I stood before the Townhall ; but I should 



250 Norica. 



not have been allowed to mount the steps, 
had I not gained over one of the officers of 
the court by a generous squeeze of the hand. 
The brave Diirer was already waiting for me 
at the door, which was the more agreeable to 
me, as I was acquainted with but few of the 
counsellors. He was to-day the principal 
personage in the assembly, as the emperor 
intended to confer with him respecting the 
execution of the triumphal procession. Diirer 
led me into the chamber of assembly, in the 
middle of which stood a long table, covered 
with a green cloth, and a number of immense 
ink-stands, to each of which bell-pulls hung 
down from the roof. It looked as if their 
pencil-shaped tassels were here used for writ- 
ing. Diirer first introduced me to the burgo- 
master, Martin Tucher. He was an old and 
corpulent man, who moved about slowly in 
his heavy robe of office, but with much dig- 
nity of manner. 

Herr Paul Volckamer was no stranger to 
me, for I had become acquainted with him at 
the Feast of St. Sebaldus; and Herr Sebald 



The TownhalL 251 

Schreyer, churchwarden of St. Sebaldus, I 
recognised directly, from his likeness in 
KrafrVs "Last Supper." This Schreyer was 
a quiet, worthy man. 

The magistrates were engaged in an ani- 
mated conversation, the subject of which was, 
the manifold marks of favour with which the 
emperor had received the homage of the au- 
thorities. When the burgomaster heard that 
I was a friend of Diirer's and of the arts, he 
ordered a servant of the council to bring a 
large book, which had been bound by a skil- 
ful monk in red velvet, richly embroidered 
with gold, and which displayed on the cover 
the Hapsburg arms. It was Pfinzing's he- 
roic poem Teuerdank) the same book which 
was presented as a gift to the emperor. The 
burgomaster had managed to obtain posses- 
sion of it to shew it to his colleagues, who 
had already admired it, and must now admire 
it anew. All the arts had here joined in 
rivalry to present to the prince a princely 
gift. It was impossible to take amiss the 
complacent air with which the burgomaster 



252 Norica. 

shewed the woodcuts that his future son-in- 
law had executed, and described the joy and 
the interest expressed by the emperor at the 
sight of the book. Maximilian had immedi- 
ately made inquiry about the skilful wood- 
engraver ; and when he learned that the 
young Schaufelin needed support, ordered 
from him a large picture, and paid the price 
beforehand — an encouragement which falls 
to the lot of few young artists. While I 
gained in a high degree the goodwill of the 
old man by eagerly turning over the leaves 
of this splendid work, Herr ImhofT entered 
the chamber. As Tucher sought to excite the 
interest of those present in his son-in-law, 
not less did ImhofT try to direct it towards 
his father-in-law. Pirckheimer's Latin poem 
on Maximilian, which had been composed in 
the name of the magistracy, he praised and 
admired aloud, as the emperpr had also done. 
When he beheld me, he drew out of his 
pocket a copy of the poem, and presented 
me with it. 

The noble guest still kept us waiting ; and 



I 



The Little Hall. 253 

Diirer proposed to me to take a view mean- 
while of the paintings in the Little Hall. I 
agreed to it directly, and thought to find an 
opportunity of confiding to him what had 
taken place between me and the Eosenthale- 
rin. But Herr Sebald Schreyer accompanied 
us. The Little Hall was in the upper story. 
In several pictures I here saw portraits as 
large as life of noble men, who, as Herr 
Schreyer explained to me, had deserved 
richly of the city by their foundations ; such 
were Hans Eieter, an ancestor of the Pirck- 
heimer family, and Conrad Gross, the foun- 
der of the hospital of the Holy Ghost. The 
paintings of Diirer had more attractions for 
me. The splendid painting of Adam and 
Eve had already found a place here — a pre- 
sent by which the master had erected a me- 
I morial of himself with the council and with 
the town. But perhaps the most admirable 
production that ever issued from Diirer's 
creative genius was the Four Apostles, on 
two long narrow panels that were pairs, and 
which originally were intended for the fold- 



254 Norica. 

ing leaves of a great altar-piece. They ap- 
peared to himself, when he now saw them 
completed before him, of such high perfec- 
tion, that he doubted being able to surpass 
their beauty in the centre picture, or even to 
reach it. He sold them for a small sum to 
the magistrate, as independent works, that 
they might remain in his native town. On 
each panel are seen two of the preachers of 
Christianity, of the size of life. Diirer repre- 
sented in them the four temperaments. As 
a pensive spirit is allied to the art of poe- 
try, he represented Melancholy here in the 
delicate youthful figure of John, the poet 
among the evangelists. How thoughtfully by 
his side does the venerable Peter, with the 
keys, bend down over the book which John 
holds! He expresses the phlegmatic tem- 
perament. Look at the vigorous old man 
yonder — how fearful his sidelong glance ! 
The eye of Paul inspires more terror than 
his sword. Mark, on the contrary, behind 
him, opens his mouth with a smile, which 
displays the dazzling whiteness of his teeth. 



Driver's Four Temperaments. 255 

The latter exhibits the sanguine temperament; 
the former the choleric. I understood now 
more and more clearly the impression which 
the four Apostles had made upon Veit Stoss. 
We then left the hall, and returned to the 
council-chamber. Here the number of arri- 
vals had increased. A man, whose liveliness 
and strange countenance struck me not a 
little, was just at that moment engaged in a 
quarrel with the burgomaster, who looked 
very angry. Although he had a bald head, 
he appeared to play the young man still ; 
and his mouth • with constant laughter was 
lengthened as much in one direction as his 
nose in the other. It was Herr Lazarus 
Spengler, the town-clerk. Although he ex- 
posed himself to the crossness of the burgo- 
master in his attempt to win a smile from 
him, yet the latter only looked on him more 
crossly still, as the pliant bow would strive 
in vain to elicit lively tones from the double- 
bass. "Here are the dice/ 5 cried the town- 
clerk, while he let them fall from one hand 
into the other ; " why should we waste our 



256 Nor tea. 

precious time in doing nothing ? Come, friend 
Imhoff, quick to work before the emperor 
arrives. 55 " But/ 5 objected the burgomaster, 
with a stiff, official air, " consider your posi- 
tion, this place, and the object of our being 
here. 55 " Can you still never get the mastery 
over those pious sentiments which your de- 
ceased father brought out of the promised 
land?" said Spengler. " Good ! there is 
Diirer, and here, in this chest, lie all his 
painting materials. Get up, and draw us 

a !' 5 Here he mentioned before the 

whole assembly a game the name of which 
I dare not even write. He soon devised an 
expedient for a tablet on which to draw the 
game, with the four and twenty tongues* set 
opposite to each other, by tearing down a pic- 
ture from the wall. This picture represented 
a crucifixion, and was well painted by the 
old master Jacob Walch, although in a some- 
what antique style. He turned the picture 
on its face, and reached Diirer a piece of 

* fc Entgegengekehrten Zungen 1 in the German. The 
meaning of this phrase is not explained. 



The Arrival of the Emperor. 257 

chalk. " Look at this venerable picture/' 
began Herr Tucher, whose vexation rose to 
its highest pitch ; " look at our Lord Jesus 
Christ on the cross !" " That suits a game 
at dice beautifully/' cried the other. ts Don't 
you know that a die was cast for the garments 
of Him crucified ?" " Throw a cast then, 
Herr Spengler, for your soul !" 

Hardly had the angry burgomaster uttered 
these words, when the servant of the council 
announced the arrival of the emperor, which 
drove asunder the motley groups like a sud- 
den hail-storm. The picture was hung up 
again, and the whole council left the room, 
and stationed themselves on each side of the 
stairs, in order to receive their exalted guest 
with due solemnity. It was not long before 
the Emperor Maximilian, with majestic bear- 
ing, made his appearance, attended by nobles 
and his train. He wore a simple cap and 
plume and a purple mantle, on which shone 
neither gold nor precious stones, for his form 
needed no accession of dignity, nor his coun- 
tenance of brightness. Chivalry and a love 



258 Norica. 



of art often raised him above the depressing 
cares of government. Profuse liberality was 
the expression of his benevolence; and in his 
features might yet be read those words, in 
which he justified himself to his father against 
the charge of extravagance : " Why should 
I heap up riches, since the king must make 
war on his enemy with arms, and not with 
gold? 55 Next to him stood, clad in iron ar- 
mour (for this he considered his most com- 
fortable dress), the Freyherr Johannes von 
Schwarzenberg, of a family of high descent, 
whose unusual size had already struck me. 
His strength corresponded to his size. Many 
a noble horse had sunk under him when he 
swung himself upon its back. In tourna- 
ments he was always the victor, and lifted his 
adversary out of the saddle, as in drinking 
he knew how to raise the cup, and drain the 
largest bowl at a single draught. But he was 
a hero too in virtue and in science. He was 
learned in jurisprudence, and was acquainted 
with the Latin classics. The latter he trans- 
lated, and the former he enriched with pro- 



His Attendants. 259 

jects of laws. Two other authors also stood 
by the emperor : these were the provost and 
and poet, Pfinzing, and the counsellor and 
poet, Pirckheimer. The first was a withered 
little man, of a shy demeanour, with a small 
black cap on the crown of his head. Study 
did not agree with him so well as with the 
counsellor, whose head sank into his double 
chin as into a cushion. It was refreshing to 
see how affably the emperor bore himself to- 
wards all. This did not appear to be agree- 
able to the nobles who stood behind him, 
and they held themselves so much the higher, 
just as if it were incumbent on them to re- 
store the proper relation which Max*s conde- 
scending behaviour had violated. 

The emperor wished to betake himself to 
the great hall ; and forthwith Dlirer, towards 
whom he shewed himself especially gracious, 
took drawing materials and sheets of paper 
for sketching, which he had brought with 
him, and had the honour of conducting his 
majesty. Above the little door through which 
we went, I read these words : 



260 Norica. 

" Eines Mannes Red' ist halbe Rede ; 
Vernehmt drum der Partheien jede."* 

For the great hall was the proper hall of 
justice. It was yaster than any I had ever 
seen, and the people who below had stood so 
closely packed together, were now here lost 
in its great size, in a way one could hardly 
have believed. The hall was eighty feet high 
and thirty feet wide, and had a high round 
vaulted roof. The hall, like many other parts 
of the building, had been planned by the ce- 
lebrated Hans Behaim, who was still living, 
and who was also the designer of the Herren- 
keller. The Townhall, which in the present 
day is considered by each and all as a beau- 
tiful building, he called patch-work, because 
it was not all built according to one plan. 
Three lofty Gothic windows admitted full 
light into the great hall, and these were or- 
namented with the most beautiful painted 
glass, armorial bearings, and other represen- 
tations, by the skilful master, Hirschvogel. 

* " On one side doth but half the truth appear ; 

Would you the whole obtain, then both sides hear.' n 



The Great Hall 



261 



How the colours sent forth rays, and spread 
a brightness as of noonday ! But the most 
striking objects in the hall were the frescoes 
of Diirer. Although one of them was not 
quite finished, yet the scaffolding had been 
taken away, in order that one might enjoy 
the sight of them. Herr Pirckheimer had 
furnished the painter with the conception, 
and the work did honour to them both. 

On the wall to the north was represented 
the celebrated triumphal car of the Emperor 
Maximilian. He sat in his imperial robe, 
with sceptre and palm-branch, in a carriage, 
all of gold, to which twelve spirited horses 
were harnessed in pairs. On the four wheels 
were inscribed in golden characters the La- 
tin words : Magnificentia, Honor, Digni- 
tas, Gloria. By the side of each pair of 
horses walked two young women, on whose 
wreaths were inscribed the following quali- 
ties : as, EXPERIENTIA, SOLERTIA, MAG- 

nanimitas, and Atjdacia. On the canopy 
these words glittered, Quod in ccelis sol, hoc 
in terra Ccesar est. Behind the emperor is 



262 Norica. 



kneeling, in fluttering garments, Victoria, 
who is placing a laurel-crown on the head of 
the conqueror. On her wings are inscribed : 
Venetis, Germanis, Bohemis, Elvetiis, 
Ungaris, Gallis. Maidens, all Virtues, 
stepped beside the car, and maidens also 
danced round the emperor with garlands, 
themselves wreathed into a garland. They 
represented Gentleness, Clemency, Generosity, 
Equity, Constancy, Justice, &c. In front of 
the emperor, as charioteer, sits Reason, guid- 
ing with the reins the horses Nohilitas and 
Potentia. 

How naturally is the chorus of musicians 
painted in the corner, where are seen old 
men and young ones, with cheeks puffed out, 
blowing trumpets and clarionets ! How the 
lad yonder, who is blowing the pipe, sits on 
the balcony dangling his legs ! Behind is the 
kettle-drummer, listening attentively for his 
turn. 

No less beautiful is the representation on 
the other wall, where is depicted, for a warn- 
ing, a judgment-scene, such as, alas, there 



The Frescoes. 263 

are so many in the world. There, in his 
chair, sits the judge, whose high wisdom lies 
in the Midas-ears, into which Suspicio?i and 
Ignorance are whispering only too officiously. 
In vain one reads the words written before 
him : Nemo unquam sententiam eerat, 

PRIUSQUAM CUNCTA AD AMUSSIM PERPENDE- 

rit.* The innocent Accused kneels before 
the throne, and raises his hands beseechingly, 
while Slander is drawing him by the hair 
before the judge. See behind the devilish 
faces of Deceit, Envy, and Malice, who per- 
secute the unhappy one. Behind them has- 
ten on the wing to his destruction, Precipi- 
tation, Mistake, and Punishment. It is too 
late that Pepentance, in mourning garments, 
addresses herself to Truth ; for over the pic- 
ture garlands of flowers do not conceal the 
hatchet and sword, which threaten fearfully 
from above. I could not gaze enough on all 
these wonderful productions ; and the Em- 



* M Let no man pronounce judgment, before he has 
weighed every thing in the exact balance of justice." 



264 Norica. 

peror Maximilian too examined every thing 
with a searching look. He said many things 
to Diirer in praise of the execution of the 
designs, which had been previously laid be- 
fore him. By the triumphal car was a group, 
which, as he expressed himself to the master, 
was not to his taste. - The latter immediately 
spread out a sheet of paper, and, with incre- 
dible quickness, drew two figures, asking him 
meanwhile whether his majesty wished them 
altered thus. The emperor replied in the 
negative, and then seized the black chalk 
himself; but when he attempted to draw with 
it, it broke, and he could not succeed. Then 
Max was surprised, and asked how it hap- 
pened that he had been able to draw with 
the same piece of chalk. " That is my king- 
dom," answered Durer, smiling ; " aliud est 
sceptrum, aliud est plectrum" " It is one 
thing to sway, and another to play/ 5 But 
Diirer had sufficiently guessed his wishes, 
and now represented two figures in outline, 
which quite satisfied him. " I should like to 
know/' remarked the emperor, " how these 



Diirer ennobled. 265 

groups would look in the large painting." 
Hardly had the painter heard this, than he 
ordered a ladder to be brought, that he might 
sketch them on the wall with the chalk the 
size of life. Diirer placed the ladder right 
for drawing. Then Max made a sign to a 
nobleman standing near, that he should hold 
the ladder ; but he chose to think, that if he 
performed such a service for a citizen, some- 
thing would stick to his hands, and there- 
fore turned away, as if he had not under- 
stood the emperor's meaning. But the latter 
noticed this, was angry, and said, (as I my- 
self heard,) " I can make a nobleman out of 
every pea sant ; but not such a painter out of 
any nobleman" 

This was the reason why the emperor, in 
order that master Diirer should not again 
experience such a humiliation, sent him from 
Vienna a patent of nobility, and appointed 
him imperial court -painter. Diirer, with 
allusion partly to his name (which is often 
written Thiirer), and partly to his art, had 
chosen the following emblem for his seal: An 



266 



Norica. 



easel, on which stands an escutcheon, with an 
open wicket in a gate.* Diirer now received 
a coat-of-arms, bearing three silver shields on 
a blue field. 




CHAPTER V. 



THE CEMETERY OF ST. JOHN, WITH THE SCULPTURES 
OF ADAM KRAFFT. 




[he Niirnberg chronicler, Johann 
Muller, relates as follows: 
1475. 

" Towards the end of this year, 
on St. Andrew's day, the plague began, and 
with it a fearful loss of life. He who 3 r ester- 
day had friends, on the morrow had them no 
more ; and he who in the morning was up 
and stirring, in the evening lay stretched on 
the bier. Then did many houses stand open 
and exposed, for there was no one to close 
them ; then were the streets desolate, save 
when the stillness was broken by a funeral 
procession. The bells were not tolled, since 
else they would never have ceased ; but the 
tinkling of the mass-bell was constantly heard, 



268 Norica. 

as the priest passed to and fro with the Host, 
to administer the Sacrament to the dying ; 
and each man said to himself, 6 To-day it is 
my neighbour's fate, to-morrow it is mine. 5 
What once brought a blessing, brought thee 
now a curse. If thou waitedst on the sick, 
then was it thy fate to be buried with him ; 
if thou gavest an alms to the starving beggar, 
then he gave thee back plague-boils ; if thou 
wentest into the church to seek consolation, 
then there arose to meet thee from the vaults 
the infectious breath of corpses. 
1476. 
" The dying went on, and still increased 
in the autumn. Then the council ordered 
that all the sick, without respect of persons, 
should be brought out of the city into the 
hospital, and that no man who had died of 
the plague should be allowed a burial within 
the city. "Without the city there was a wide 
space near the church of St. John, railed 
off and consecrated, where all were to be 
interred. But the people were not satisfied 
therewith, and desired a place of rest in the 



The Plague at Niirnberg. 269 



church, by the side of their kindred. This 
dying continued even until April of the fol- 
lowing year." 

Thus far the chronicler. Niirnberg is the 
first German city which had its grave-yard 
outside the walls. This is the Cemetery of 
St. John, not far from the Thiergartner-gate, 
no less renowned for the memory of illus- 
trious men who here repose, than for the 
works of art which are here displayed, and 
win a triumph from death. The chronicler 
remarks, that the people resisted the judici- 
ous order of the council ; just as now, from 
attachment to habitude, the crowd oppose 
every thing new, unless it has some pleasure 
or vanity for its object. It was now pro- 
posed to all the principal persons who had 
the welfare of the city at heart, to give a 
character of sanctity to the new cemetery, 
that they might prepare the way for the at- 
tainment of their object by the sentiment of 
devotion. Martin Ketzel and Adam Kraflt 
contend for the honour of having success- 
fully overcome a deeply-rooted prejudice. 



270 Norica. 

George Ketzel, a citizen of Niirnberg, was 
a godly man, who for a long time had been 
the superintendent of the hospital of the Holy- 
Ghost. For the edification of himself and 
friends of a similar turn, he had set up in a 
chapel in this place, a representation of the 
Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, after drawings 
and reports of devout pilgrims who had come 
thence. He caused the walls of the chapel 
to be stained brown, and adorned them with 
moss and muscle-shells, that it might have 
the appearance of a rock. His children as- 
sisted him in this, especially his first-born, 
Martin. Hence Martin, even when a boy, 
delighted himself with the thought of making 
a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre, in order 
to give an exact image of it. And it was no 
mere boyish dream. When, in the year 1477, 
Duke Albrecht of Saxony, penetrated with 
devout feeling, went to the Holy Land, Mar- 
tin attached himself to his train, and with joy 
saluted the earth whereon the Saviour had 
bled, and in which he was buried. Nor did 
he rest in giving himself up to a spirit of 



The Cemetery of St. John. 27 1 



self-niortification, but early and late he was 
occupied in accurately measuring all the holy 
places, and making drawings of them. More 
than once did he measure with paces the 
length of the way from Pilate's house to the 
Place of Skulls , and the distances of the seven 
incidents from one another. He thought he 
had returned home with a treasure ; but how 
great was his horror when, having arrived at 
his native city, he looked over his papers, 
and found that the measurement of the road 
along which the Saviour was conducted from 
his place of trial to the Cross was missing ! 
Grieved at his loss, he felt that his journey 
to Jerusalem had half failed of its purpose. 
But a true zeal will never cool, though it 
were necessary to split rocks or drain the 
ocean. At the end of nine years, Martin 
Ketzel set out on his journey again, in the 
train of the Duke Otto of Bavaria. All the 
difficulties of the way he overcame cheerfully; 
and kneeling a second time at the tomb of 
the Redeemer, he forgot all that had troubled 
and grieved him. He now measured still 



27*2 Norica. 



more accurately the places sacred to devo- 
tion, and their distance from each other, and 
then took up his pilgrim's staff to return 
home. Day and night he watched over his 
plans and measurements as over holy relics, 
and rejoiced to see them within the walls of 
Niirnberg. On the road from his house at 
the Thiergartner-gate to St. John's grave- 
yard, he now caused the distances of the se- 
ven incidents of the Passion to be marked 
by pillars. His friend Adam Krafft was to 
decorate these pillars with sculptures in re- 
lief, and to erect a Calvary, with figures as 
large as life. It was a work of great labour 
and cost. Since that time the grave-yard 
has been regarded as a holy resting-place for 
the dead ; and he who now sets foot on it, 
recalls the memory of the founder and of the 
artist with grateful emotion. 

These particulars respecting St. John's 
grave-yard I had obtained from the books 
and the narrative of my host. He was a 
fat talkative man, who knew every thing that 
had taken place in former times in Niirn- 



Visit to the Cemetery. 273 



berg, as well as what was now going on. 
Many a half hour have I chatted with him, 
as he sat in the guest-chamber, comfortably 
resting in an elbow-chair. Scarcely had he 
finished to-day his account of the Cemetery 
of St. John, when I ran up stairs into my 
chamber. 

Here I waited for my dear friend Imhoff, 
who wished to visit the fresh grave of Krafft 
with me. Where could we better do honour 
to the memory of the master than here, at 
his grave, where no funeral oration dispensed 
doubtful praise, but where his own works 
proclaimed how diligent and pious he had 
been ? Leaning on the arm of a friend, to 
awaken the remembrance of the departed 
is consolatory and soothing ; like the breath 
of an after-summer, which warms into new 
life the faded green of nature. 

My punctual friend came to the hour ; and 
amid unreserved discourse, giving free vent 
to the impulse of feeling, we went past Al- 
brecht Diirer's house to the Thiergartner- 
gate. Here Imhoffpointed out to me KetzePs 



274 



Norica. 



dwelling. The house had formerly belonged 
to a patrician of Ntirnberg, Hans Kieter, an 
ancestor of Pirckheimer, and the figure of 
a knight* in stone kept his name in remem- 
brance. According to Ketzel's measurement, 
it marked the place where Pilate washed his 
hands with water, but bathed his heart in 
blood. From this point are seen, in succes- 
sion at seven different places, the seven in- 
cidents of the Passion, represented on square 
tablets of stone. Let him whose heart has 
never yet been touched by the history of 
Christ's sufferings, look at these, and he will 
expiate his insensibility with tears. Which 
must we most admire, the grief of the disciples 
and women, or the rage of the executioners, 
or the patience of him who bears the cross ? 
Behold him here, bleeding with the crown 
of thorns, bending under his load, while he 
cries to the women: "Ye daughters of Je- 
rusalem, weep not for me, but weep for 
yourselves and for your children ! " How do 

* ' Hitter' is the German for knight. 



The Seven Incidents. 



275 



the mourners fold their hands and bewail, 
veiled like nuns, with a fold of linen under 
the chin ! How do the soldiers, in the garb 
of buffoons, inhumanly mock the God-man, 
and strive to drag him along by his hair ! 

Under each stone -tablet are inscriptions, 
which run thus : 

1. Here Christ meets his honoured 
mother, who almost faints with agony 
of heart: 200 paces from Pilate's house. 

2. Here Simon helps Christ to bear 
his cross : 295 paces. 

3. Here Christ consoles the women: 
380 paces. 

4. Here Christ has left the impress of 
his face on the veil of St. Veronica: 
500 paces. 

5. Here Christ is scourged by the 
Jews : 780 paces. 

6. Here Christ falls exhausted to the 
ground : 1100 paces. 

After the sixth pillar, which is let into the 
wall, the beautiful Calvary rears itself with 
the three crucified. On this work Master 



276 



Norica. 



Krafft has bestowed the utmost labour, so 
that one can clearly trace every sinew and 
vein. Calmly is the Saviour passing away, 
since his prayer is heard, that his enemies 
may be forgiven. Of the malefactors, in one 
you see repentance, in the other hardness of 
heart; here are tears, there is gnashing of 
teeth. There was no need here, as in some 
ancient paintings, to represent, on the one 
hand an angel approaching the converted, 
and on the other a devil dragging his soul 
out of the mouth of the wicked. Near the 
cross is seen a sorrowing group, — John, with 
the women, who are supporting the mother 
of sorrows in their arms. Behind the Cal- 
vary stands the last tablet in the wall : 

7. Here Christ lies dead, before his 
blessed mother. 
It was with difficulty that I withdrew my 
eyes from the dear images. But the sepul- 
chral chapel of the Holzschuer family and a 
crucifix, which, rising above the churchyard 
wall, seemed to beckon us, promised us still 
a new enjoyment in the field where death 



Krajft's Grave. 



277 



gathers his sheaves. We entered in at the 
churchyard gate, and there saw tombstone 
upon tombstone of grey and red granite, 
wrought with armorial bearings and inscrip- 
tions. Between the tombs flowers and shrubs 
grew in uncultured luxuriance. One grave 
only was still uncovered by any stone, — that 
of the ingenious master, Adam Krafft. I 
plucked the flowers which grew around, and 
strewed them with a quiet sadness over the 
newly-made grave. 

When Imhoff had related to me many 
beautiful incidents in the life of the pious 
master, he went away to call the sacristan, 
that he might open the chapel of the Holz- 
schuers for us. 

Leisurely did I wander among the graves, 
busied partly with the inscriptions, partly 
with my own thoughts. Over one grave in 
the distance I saw a maiden lingering, while 
busily weaving a garland of flowers, with 
which to adorn a black grave-cross. Unper- 
ceived I drew near to the mourner, and re- 
cognised in her, although I could see nothing 



278 



Norica. 



but her beautiful form and fair hair, the be- 
loved of my heart. I gently glided up to 
her, and, overcome by my feelings, I laid 
my hand on her white arm. Forgetting the 
sacredness of the place and the modesty of 
Maria, I might now have alarmed her by 
a kiss, had not the tears in her beautiful 
eyes quickly disarmed my boldness. " Now, 
lovely one, thou mayst not escape me ! By 
the dear remains over which thou art here la- 
menting, I adjure thee, declare whether thou 
wilt make me, by the possession of thyself, 
the happiest of men ; yes — give me the hope 
even now, that I may one day render thee 
the happiest of women." The maiden, thus 
taken by surprise, became pale and red by 
turns. She implored me to leave her alone, 
as she was paying her devotions at the grave 
of her mother, and pointed, as she said this, 
to the cross, on which was inscribed the name, 
" Emilia Eosenthalerin." But the eagerness 
of my feelings scorned restraint; and I did 
not move, but only repeated my entreaties 
the more vehemently. 



Fischer's Tombstone for Krafft. 279 



As I had always been thwarted in my 
wishes, so was it now. The churchyard sud- 
denly filled with people ; and fearing lest 
my object should be misapprehended, and 
the modesty of the maiden compromised, 
I respectfully retreated. Maria seized the 
moment to make her escape. Borne by se- 
veral men, a tombstone was brought into the 
churchyard; and near it stood a man in a 
blue doublet, whom I did not, till after look- 
ing at him a long time, recognise as the elder 
Vischer. He seemed irritable from intense 
occupation of thought, and was disputing 
with the bearers, who could not please him, so 
that I did not venture to address him. 

In the meantime Hans Imhoff, who had 
long been in search of me, overtook me. 
He related to me how old Vischer had, 
in a touching manner, prolonged his love 
for the deceased Krafft beyond the limits 
of life. Old as he was, he could not re- 
frain from assisting to bear the coffin of his 
old companion in art to the grave, whatever 
might be the number of younger artists 



•2 8o Norica. 

ready for the office ; and lie had now come, 
by the aid of subscriptions, which he had 
laboriously collected, to place a stone oyer 
the grave of his friend. I was affected by 
the narration, and tenderly squeezed the 
hand of Imhoff, with the words, " Friend- 
ship is in truth a precious thing !" Imhoff 
now went with me into the Holzschuer 
chapel, where was the last work of Adam 
Krafft, which death had hindered him from 
completing. The subject was the Entomb- 
ment of Christ, some figures of which the 
deceased master had himself shewn me in his 
work-room. Their beauty had been wonder- 
fully heightened by colouring and gilding. 
The group of figures was placed in a deep 
arched recess in the chapel, which measured 
full ten feet in height and length. Fifteen 
figures of inimitable beauty represented a 
scene of the deepest mourning and holiest 
anguish. Even as thou, Lord Jesus Christ, 
wast laid in thy rocky tomb, covered with 
wounds and the marks of stripes, and didst 
rise in glory; so has Krafft too shaken off 



Letter from the Rosenthalerin. 281 

the ashes of mortality, and shines forth in the 
brightness of a glorified spirit. 

We left this place of rest; and on our way- 
back we refreshed ourselves with another 
look at the masterpieces already described. 
When I found myself again alone in my 
chamber, a conflict of the most opposite feel- 
ings deprived me of all repose and enjoy- 
ment. Then was brought to me a letter 
written in an unknown hand. It ran thus : 

t€ Honoured Here, Heller, 

" If I have in any way pleased 
you, it has been because you did not know 
me, because you were not aware that I am 
of humble birth and quite poor. I write 
this, while Father Veit is telling over on his 
notched stick, with tears in his eyes, how 
many years, months, and weeks I have lived 
with him. Never will my gratitude allow me 
to separate myself from him. I beseech you, 
do not change your feelings towards my poor 
blind father. 

" Maria Rosenthalerin." 



282 Norica. 

Here was a formal refusal, which seemed 
to destroy all my hopes at once. And yet 
I know not how it was, that, as I read the 
letter over again and again, I felt myself won- 
derfully tranquillised. 







CHAPTER VI. 

THE SINGING-SCHOOL OF THE MASTER-SINGERS. 
HANS SACHS IN THE TAVERN. 

walked up and down my room 
while waiting for my breakfast; 
and looking out of the window 
saw a rope, which extended from 
St. Sebaldus to the Townhall, and from the 
middle of which hung a painted shield. All 
the pains which I took to make out the fig- 
ures upon it were in vain; and I was just 
about to go down to the host to gain some 
information about it, when, at the same mo- 
ment, Peter Vischer the younger, who was 
one of the members elect of the council, and 
was as amiable as he was accomplished, en- 
tered my room. He greeted me, and remind- 
ing me of what had been agreed on between 
us, he informed me that to-day a festival of 



284 Norica. 

the Singing-school would be held in honour 
of the emperor. I looked at him with sur- 
prise ; but then I remembered that Peter 
Vischer was devoted to the delightful art of 
the Master-singers, and I was able to explain 
his words, and at the same time to under- 
stand what was meant by the suspension of 
the tablet. Peter related to me that, by this 
shield, all who took part in pious festivals 
were invited to the Singing-school. 

In the meantime breakfast was brought 
in, and Vischer was pleased to share it with 
me. He told me much about the origin and 
nature of the art of the Master-singers, to 
which I willingly lent an attentive ear. The 
unseasonable question which escaped me, 
whether handicraftsmen in other places also 
pursued the same recreation ? did not make 
him angry ; he rather felt himself incited 
to instruct me concerning the high mean- 
ing of their endeavours. " Good music and 
the lovely art of singing," he began, some- 
what solemnly, " do not merely contribute 
to the delight and amusement of men, but 



School of the Master-Singers. 285 

are the noblest means of exciting in them a 
recollection of divine favours and the devo- 
tion of the heart; even as the holy apostle 
Paid earnestly exhorts men to practise pious 
songs." 

I purposely interrupted him in his dis- 
course, and he then continued : " The High- 
school of the Master-singers is Mainz, and 
the Branch-schools are Niirnberg and Stras- 
burg. But for a long time this charming art 
has been more cultivated in Xiirnberg than 
elsewhere. As fifty years ago the illuminator 
Hans Rosenpliit, and the barber Hans Folz, 
were in high repute, so now the linen-weaver, 
Leonhard Xunnenbeck, and, before all, his 
pupil Hans Sachs, the cobbler." " What is 
the meaning of those figures on the tablet ?" 
I asked. " On the tablet," he answered, 
u you see above, an escutcheon with a crown 
— those are the arms of the Master-singers ; 
and below are twelve men who are culti- 
vating a garden, but whose labour is de- 
stroyed by a wild beast. The twelve men 
are the twelve celebrated singers who or- 



286 



Norica. 



ganised the first school ; and the wild beast 
is Envy without and Discord within, that 
spoils their success. Penetrated with a sense 
of their holy calling, the twelve men sang 
songs which were pleasing to God and pro- 
fitable to men. The emperor Otto the Great, 
of illustrious memory, ratified their union, 
and gave them an armorial bearing with a 
crown. But the monks, who at one time had 
every thing their own way in the Church, 
were envious that they should thus publicly 
set forth the grace of God. They calum- 
niated them to the Pope as heretics; and 
he summoned them in a body to Pavia, to 
give an account of their proceedings. They 
here frankly declared that God inspired their 
songs, and that they were therefore not only 
innocent but also holy. Whereat his Holi- 
ness was astonished, and in order to bring 
them to shame as liars, he gave them all 
a theme out of the Bible, on which they 
were to make a poem, and caused each to be 
separately locked up in a chamber. But 
the one who was put to shame was the Pope, 



Its Founders. 287 



when he compared all their poems with one 
another, and found that they agreed word 
for word. He dismissed them with rich 
presents, and called them all genuine Chris- 
tians, although one did not deserve this 
name." 

" Are the names of these wonderful men 
known?" 

" Certainly they are known. Some were 
learned men, some knights, and some citizens. 
One was a smith, one a rope -maker, one a 
glass-burner. There is not much to be told 
about them ; but only so much the more 
about the knight, Wolfram Rohn (von Esch- 
enbach), of Heinrich Frauenlob, Doctor of 
the Holy Scripture at Mainz, of Nicolaus 
Klingsor, Master of the Liberal Arts. Kling- 
sor was a mighty astrologer and necroman- 
cer in Hungary, who lived at the time when 
there were at the court of the Landgrave 
Herrmann on the Wartburg, six masters of 
the art of singing, equally noble by birth and 
by soul. Five of them, of noble extraction, 
were knights, such as the territorial -lord 



288 Nor tea. 

Walther von der Vogelweide, and "Wolfram 
Rohn ; but one was a citizen of Eisenach, 
Heinrich von Ofterdingen. They celebrated 
in songs the glory of the Landgrave and the 
chastity of the Landgravine Sophia. Once 
upon a time they resolved upon a contest of 
song. They called it the " War of the Wart- 
burg;" and as in war it is a question of life 
and death, they agreed among themselves, 
that he who came off worst should be hung. 
They contended in song, and Heinrich von 
Ofterdingen was vanquished. When the 
others would have taken his life, he sought 
shelter under the cloak of the lady Sophia, 
and she screened him, and contrived that 
the vanquished one should obtain the assist- 
ance of a master in song, so as in the space 
of a year to offer himself again to the con- 
test. He now travelled about, and went also 
into Hungary, where he saw the renowned 
Klingsor observing the stars. He laid the 
matter before him, and the necromancer pro- 
mised to come at the end of a year, if he 
should by that time have observed all the 



The Necromancer Klingsor. 289 

stars, for before then lie would not stir from 
his place. Heinrich had on this account 
much sorrow and care. He waited one moon 
after another. The year was nearly gone, 
and he learned that Klingsor was still count- 
ing the stars at home. But on the very day 
on which the contest of song was to take 
place in the Knights-house, Klingsor caused 
himself to be carried by his spirits to Thiir- 
ingen, and proceeded towards the TTartburg 
in the guise of a bishop. The contest had 
commenced. First Wolfram began, and then 
Klingsor sang with great skill of the nature 
of the heavenly spheres, of the course of the 
stars, and of the movement of the planets. 
Wolfram knew nothing of all this, and was 
obliged to be silent. Then he in his turn 
praised the glory of God, and proclaimed 
how the "Word had become flesh, and how 
our Lord Jesus Christ had given his blood for 
Christendom, as a pledge and earnest of eter- 
nal blessedness. Klingsor knew nothing of 
all this, and was obliged to be silent. Kling- 
sor now summoned his servant, the devil 



290 Norica. 

Nasian, who appeared with four books in a 
bright glare of fire. Wolfram, when he saw 
his opponent lose courage, proceeded tri- 
umphantly, ' God is the highest being, and 
God is the Lord of all worlds.' ' Dost thou 
know all worlds V asked Nasian ; and Wolf- 
ram looked at him embarrassed. c Schnipp, 
schnapp !' then cried Nasian ; c thou art a 
layman. How dost thou know that God is 
the Lord of all worlds, if thou dost not know 
how many worlds there are V And he wrote 
on the wall with his finger, as with a glow- 
ing coal, ' Wolfram is vanquished!' The 
landgrave then decided that neither had sur- 
passed the other, and allowed Klingsor to 
leave the court laden with precious gifts. 
Thus were saved Wolfram's honour and Of- 
terdingen's life. That is the history of the 
Wartburg contest. — Another famous master- 
singer is Dr. Frauenlob from Meissen. He 
extolled in immortal songs the beauty and 
virtue of women ; and out of gratitude the 
women of Mainz bore him to the grave, since 
it was fit their virtue should display itself to 



Mode of Admission. 291 

him , not only during his life, but in his death. 
In the cathedral is his tombstone, which the 
women moistened with tears and with wine." 

" Then the art of singing, with which you 
are now occupied, you derive from these 
twelve masters ?" 

" Yes, certainly. They instructed youths; 
and the scholars became masters in their 
turn; and so on down to our time. Whoever 
wishes to learn the art goes to a master who 
has once at least gained the prize in the 
Singing-school, and he instructs him without 
any fee. He teaches what it means to sing 
for the honour of Religion, and initiates him 
into the mysteries of the Tabidature, for so 
we call the laws of the art of poetry. "When 
the scholar has mastered these, he petitions 
the society to be admitted a member, inas- 
much as he is of commendable manners, and 
shews good- will. On being received, he must 
ascend the singer's chair in the church, and 
give a proof of his skill. If he succeeds, 
his wish is granted. He takes a most solemn 
vow to be ever true to the art ; to maintain 



292 Norica. 



the honour of the society; always to bear 
himself peaceably ; and not to profane any 
master-song by singing it aloud in the street. 
He then pays the registering money, and 
gives two measures of wine as a treat. In 
the ordinary meetings of the Master-singers, 
and when they are assembled together in the 
tavern, secular songs are indeed allowed, but 
never at the school -festivals. The festivals 
of the schools take place three times a year, 
at Easter, at Whitsuntide, and at Christ- 
mas, in St. Catherine's Church. Here only 
such poems are recited, the subjects of which 
are taken from the Bible or the sacred le- 
gends. He who sings with the fewest faults 
is here decorated with a golden chain ; and 
he who comes next best after him, with a 
wreath. He, on the contrary, who is con- 
victed of gross faults, must atone for them by 
a fine. Thus the life of the Master-singers 
glides away amidst edifying songs ; and if 
one is called away from the happy band, his 
companions assemble round his grave, and 
sing a farewell song to him." 



The Singing Festival. 293 

As the clock of the Townhall now struck, 
Vischer broke off. I supposed he would have 
taken me with him to St. Catherine's Church; 
but he promised to return in the course of 
an hour, as he must first put on another 
dress. He kept his word, and soon appeared 
completely clad in black silk, with a graceful 
cap. There was no fear of going wrong, as 
one had only to follow the train of people 
who were streaming towards the festival of 
the school. At the entrance of the little 
church, the sacristan held out his cap for 
drink-money. This was to prevent all the 
rabble from pressing in, and depriving re- 
spectable people of their edification. The 
church was beautifully decorated within, and 
from the choir, which the emperor was to 
occupy, hung down a rich purple canopy. 
Most impressive was the appearance of the 
company of Master-singers, seated all around 
upon the benches, some of them long-bearded 
old men (all of whom, however, still appeared 
vigorous) ; some beardless youths, who were 
all, nevertheless, as quiet and serious as if 



294 Nor tea. 



they belonged to the Seven Wise Men of 
Greece. All appeared in silk garments, 
green, blue, or blacky with neatly plaited 
lace collars. Among the splendidly dressed 
masters was Hans Sachs, and his teacher 
Nunnenbeck. A greater stillness could not 
have reigned during High Mass. Vischer 
and I were the only talkers, as he had to ex- 
plain every thing to me. By the side of the 
pulpit was the singer's chair. This chair, 
which the masters had had built at their own 
expense, and which to-day was ornamented 
with a gay carpet, was like a pulpit, only 
smaller. In the forepart of the choir a low 
platform had been erected, upon which stood 
a table and a desk. This was called the Ge- 
merke;* for here was the place for those 
who had to mark the faults which the singers 
committed — in form, against the laws of the 
Tabulature — and in subject, by deviating from 
the Bible narrative and the legends of the 
saints. These people were called MerJcer, and 

* From the German, 'merken,' to mark. 



Its Arrangements. 295 

there were three of them. Although the Ge- 
merhe was enclosed with black curtains, yet 
from my seat I could observe every thing 
that went on there, and I saw hanging on 
one side of the platform the golden chain, to 
which several medals were attached, which 
was called the Daxidsgeivinner,* and the 
wreath, which was made of silken flowers. 

The noise of wheels was now heard before 
the entrance, and the emperor Maximilian 
appeared with his whole train, and bore him- 
self very graciously as he looked benignantly 
down from the choir. But he did not tarry 
long; for the divine art of singing did not 
seem to give him particular pleasure. When 
the emperor made his appearance, everything 
was at once in active motion. A venerable 
master ascended the singer's chair, and from 
the Gemerke resounded the word, "Begin." 
It was Conrad Nachtigall, a locksmith, whose 
song was so yearning and plaintive, that he 
well deserved his name. Of the Heavenly 

* That is, the ' David's winner.' 



296 Norica. 

Jerusalem, and of the founding of the New, 
he said much that was beautiful. I observed 
in the Gemerke how one of the masters fol- 
lowed him in the Bible, how another counted 
the syllables on his fingers, and the third 
wrote down what these two whispered to him 
from time to time. But the masters below 
were also attentive and quietly active. They 
were all engaged in a strange game with 
their fingers, in order to note accurately the 
measure of the verse. I perceived, by the 
shaking of their head, that here and there 
the reciter had gone wrong. After Master 
Nachtigall, the turn came to a youth named 
Fritz Kothner, a bell-founder, who had cho- 
sen the story of the creation as the subject 
of his poem. But here it could not be said, 
66 And God saw that it was good." For the 
poor youth was embarrassed, and could not 
proceed, and a marker told him to leave the 
chair. " The master has sung wrong," whis- 
pered Vischer to me ; and when I asked 
him why he was not allowed to continue his 
piece to the end, he explained to me that 



The Contest. 297 



he had committed a grave fault.* By this 
name they who possessed the science of the 
Tabidature designated an offence against the 
laws of rhyme. There were many such strange 
names for faults ; as blind-meaning, clip-syl- 
lable, dock, mite, false flowers.^ The terms 
for the various measures were indeed extra- 
ordinary; as the black-ink measure, the de- 
parted gluttons measure, the Cupid's hand- 
bow measure. % 

It was in the hedge-blossom measure that 
Leonhard Nunnenbeck, a venerable old man 
in a black garment, made his voice heard 
from the choir. His head was as smooth as 
the inside of my hand, and only his chin was 
ornamented with a snow-white beard. All 
heard him with wonder, as, in the style of the 
Apocalypse, he described the Lord, at whose 
throne the lion, the ox, the eagle, and the 

* ' Laster,' vice ; technically used by the Master-singers. 

f Blinde Meinung, Klebsylbe, Stiitze, Milbe, falsche 
Blum en. 

% Schwarz Tinten-weise, die abgeschiedene Vielfrass- 
weise, die Cupidinis Handbogen-weise, Hagebliith-weise. 



298 Norica. 

angel gave praise, and honour, and thanks- 
giving to Him. who sits thereon, and lives 
from everlasting to everlasting ; how the 
four-and-twenty elders cast down their crowns 
before the throne, and gave praise, and hon- 
our, and thanksgiving to Him by whose will 
all things have their being and were created; 
and how they have made their garments bright 
in the blood of the Lamb ; and how the an- 
gels, who stood around the throne, around 
the elders, and around the four animals, fell 
on their faces and worshipped God. 

When Nunnenbeck had ended, all were 
completely enraptured ; and in particular the 
face of Hans Sachs, who was his grateful pu- 
pil, beamed with joy. He was proud of his 
teacher, as his teacher was of him. I too 
was pleased with the poem, which, however, 
was more sublime than beautiful. Now came 
forward, as the fourth and last singer, another 
youth. What he said was completely to my 
taste. He belonged, moreover, to the com- 
pany of weavers, and was called Michael 
Behaim, and had seen many countries. His 



Behaim 9 s Poem. 290 

father had given himself the name of Behaim 
(Bohme), because he had come out of Bohe- 
mia into Franconia. With, indefatigable ef- 
forts our Behaim cultivated the art of sing- 
ing, and rightly compared himself to a miner, 
who laboriously digs, and seeks to obtain 
precious gold. He had never before come 
forward at a school -festival, as he resolved 
not to mount the singer's chair except with 
glory. Michael Behaim would doubtless have 
obtained the first prize, had not Xunnenbeck 
sung before. His poem, most ingeniously 
constructed with elaborate rhymes, was as 
follows : — 

CROWNED MEASURE. 

OF TWO MAIDENS. 

An emperor once, well known to fame, 
(His People's Father was his name,) 
To forest wide and wild laid claim, 
"Where roam'd wild beasts of every name, 
And never weary, never lame, 
An Unicorn was running. 

When now the emperor saw the same, 
He ask'd the masters, each by name, 
How best the creature they might tame, 



300 Norica. 

That, putting all their arts to shame, 
Some sure device did ever frame, 
To cheat the hunter's cunning. 

The masters answer'd, each by name, 
" No foe to peace, the beast proclaim ; 
By woman's charms you best may aim 
To make the lively creature tame, 
And gentler then the timid lamb." 
Of maids that round the emperor came, 
The fairest two he chose by name ; 
Wanton the one, and void of shame ; 
The other coy, of virtuous fame. 
The force of their attractive flame 
There was no power of shunning. 

Along the wood the maidens sped, 
The impetuous beast around them play'd. 
Freely her form the one display'd, 
The other was in robe array'd ; 
One bore aloft a glittering blade, 
A cup the other holding. 

Eager for fame, their steps they stay'd, 
And each their several wiles essay'd, 
To tame the beast, of none afraid. 
The sweet notes of the modest maid, 
Loud ringing through the forest-shade, 
The Unicorn a captive made, 
His soul in rapture folding. 

The Unicorn no longer fled, 
By soft attractive beauty led, 
And listening to the song he stay'd, 
And fearless drew towards the maid ; 



Behaim's Poem. 301 

And gently on her lap he laid 
His grateful head, no more afraid, 
In slumber soft his limbs outspread. 
Ill was his friendliness repaid : 
Waving on high her dreadful blade, 
The naked maiden smote him dead, 
The deed with fear beholding. 

His death the modest maid full sore 
Bemoan 'd; the ruddy drops of gore 
Within her cup she caught ; and more — 
She must her own hard fate deplore. 
The emperor would her peace restore, 
In that same cup of ruddy gore 
His royal mantle steeping. 

Christians, attend ! The God of power 
Is imaged in the emperor ; 
The Unicorn is Christ, who bore 
Our load of sin in evil's hour ; 
Mary the gentle maid, whose shower 
Of love fell on him ; Eve impure 
The cause of all her weeping. 

One maiden put us in death's power ; 
The other did our race restore, 
When that pure Lamb an offering bore, 
And gave of heavenly food a store. 

Christians, who walk with Christ no more, 
'Tis Eva's sword you bear ; — give o'er ; 
Leave gold and fame, a worthless store ; 
And Him, your only wealth, adore, 
Who death hath vanquish'd evermore, 
A heavenly harvest reaping. 



302 Norica. 

When Michael Behaim had recited his 
poem, the markers left their seats. The first 
marker went up to Nunnenbeck, and with a 
flattering congratulation, hung the David's- 
prize round his neck, and the second marker 
decorated Behaim's head with the wreath, 
which became him well. These gifts, how- 
ever, were not presents, but only marks of 
distinction for the celebration of the day. 
The festival in the church was now over, and 
all pressed forwards with hearty sympathy to 
those who had received these marks of hon- 
our, in order to give them a joyful shake of 
the hand. I also could not deny myself the 
pleasure of offering my thanks aloud to the 
brave Behaim. Close by stood Hans Sachs, 
who accosted me in a friendly manner, and 
renewed the bond of friendship into which 
we had shortly before entered. I lamented 
that it had not been my luck to hear him ; 
and that I must leave Niirnberg without hav- 
ing heard any other songs from his mouth 
than those which he had favoured me with 
on the highway, when I was not exactly in a 



The Gathering in the Tavern. 303 

humour to hear them. " Dearest Herr Hel- 
ler, come with us to the tavern, and you shall 
hear to your heart's content/' he replied; and 
went with me arm-in-arm out of the church, 
which had gradually become vacant. It was 
the custom for the Master - singers, particu- 
larly the younger ones, to betake themselves, 
after the school - festival, to a neighbouring 
tavern, where a joyous freedom prevailed, in 
the same degree that a religious seriousness 
had reigned in the church. The wine here 
drunk was at the cost, on the one hand, of the 
master Kothner, who paid for it as a penalty, 
on the other, of the master Behaim, who gave 
it in honour of having received the prize for 
the first time. Five measures of wine were 
given this day for the latter part of the en- 
tertainment. The Master-singers, about six- 
teen in number, crossed the street in pairs, 
one behind the other, from the church to the 
tavern : the crowned Behaim led the proces- 
sion. It was his duty here to maintain order, 
and they were all obliged to submit to him as 
to a marker. "When the masters joined in a 



304 Norica. 



song of the whole company, he had the ar- 
rangement of it. The gaily -attired guests 
contrasted strangely enough with the tavern, 
which equally within and without looked 
black with smoke and ruinous. There was 
nothing in the long room but tables and 
benches, and these were of the description 
which one generally finds in country -gar- 
dens. But gay spirits and a good glass of 
wine caused all deficiencies to be overlooked. 
As far as the space permitted, the tables were 
placed in a row close by one another, and the 
singers seated themselves on both sides. At 
the top was Behaim : his throne was an arm- 
chair, and a wooden hammer his sceptre for 
commanding silence. I sat by Hans Sachs : 
from the pressure of my neighbours I was 
pushed hard against him, so as to remark 
that his sleeves were stiffened with rods of 
fish-bones, and this induced me to examine 
particularly his strange dress. The jacket 
was of sea-green stuff, with many slits in the 
breast, through which the dazzling white- 
ness of his shirt appeared, the plaited collar of 



The Contest in Verse. 305 

which surrounded his neck in the form of a 
circle. The sleeves were of black satin, in 
which pointed incisions were tastefully made 
in regular lines, so that every where the white 
under-garment was seen through. 

A small cask of wine was placed in the 
middle of the table, and one of the masters 
had the labour of drawing it, while the empty 
cups were reached to him incessantly. After 
much talking and laughing on various sub- 
jects, I reminded Niirnberg's most famous 
singer of the promise he had made me. He 
assented. Behaim knocked with his hammer, 
and then asked the assembled guests whether 
they would not attempt a contest in verse. No 
one made any objection. He asked again who 
was willing to sing, and three masters raised 
their hands — Behaim himself, Hans Sachs, 
and Peter Yischer. Hans Sachs was to pro- 
pose a question for dispute ; and, indeed, for 
my sake, as I had told him how constantly I 
had visited the workshops of the artists, and 
delighted myself with their productions — he 
chose a subject alluding to this matter : 



306 Norica. 

HANS SACHS. 

My knowing friends, I pray you, say — 
Whose art does highest skill display ? 

PETER VISCHER. 

The Carpenter's. For, tell me fair, 
Whose work can e'er with his compare ? 
By line and level he can trace 
The highest cornice, lowest base. 
Rich pleasure-halls his art supplies ; 
High as his roofs his fame doth rise ; 
Rich in invention is his spirit, 
And mill- wright work attests his merit. 
His forts and walls are thy defence ; 
And Holy Writ doth crowns dispense 
To him who built the solid ark, 
Wherein was Noah the patriarch. 
Though raged and roar'd around the flood, 
He dwelt secure in that abode ; 
His children safe he joyed to find, 
With living beasts of every kind. 
'Twas he who built, with wise design, 
Jerusalem, that place divine. 
For wise King Solomon he framed 
His splendid palace, widely-famed. 
Think of that labyrinthine house ! 
Who can compare with Dsedalus ? 

MICHAEL BEHAIM. 

But wood corrupts, while stone endures ; 
The Mason the first place secures. 
Town- walls he builds, and lofty towers, 
And sheltering forts, when danger lowers. 



The Contest in Verse. 307 

High vaults he plants, which boldly spread 
Their branchy ribs wide over head ; 
Vast, dizzy galleries, light but fast, 
With shafts and sculptures richly graced. — 
In the leaning tower of Pisa view, 
What Wilhelm of NUrnberg's art can do. 
The temple divine of Jerusalem 
Is a model our emulous efforts to frame. 
In the heaven-aspiring tower of Babel, 
In the tomb of Mausolus — no idle fable, 
In those mountains of art, the Pyramids — 
There is work that all other work exceeds. 

HANS SACHS. 

Let axe and chisel play their part, 

They cannot vie with the Painter's art. 

They only bring houses and towns to light, 

Pile castles and watch-towers, dizzy in height. 

But he — what our God, by his word of power, 

Call'd forth at creation's natal hour — 

By mimic art to all time doth bequeath ; 

Trees, herbage, and flowers, in field and on heath ; 

The birds, as through the air they soar, 

The human face, with its living power : 

The elements — he wields them well, 

The rage of fire, the ocean's swell ; 

The devil he paints, and hell, and death, 

And heaven, and angels who wait on God's breath. 

All this by colours, now deep and now clear, 

By his magical art can he cause to appear ; 

Each part wrought out with the finest shading, 

A beautiful sketch his purpose aiding. 



308 Norica. 

All things he can bring to your very view, 

Not words could describe them more full and true. 

On these must he ponder by day and by night, 

For even in dreams his spirit is bright. 

The treasures of fancy await his control, 

For he glows with the poet's creative soul. 

The knowledge of all things is at his command, 

For they grow into life in his formative hand. 

Who can fashion all things under heaven, 

To him the master- craft is given. 

MICHAEL BEHAIM. 

The Painter thou dost praise too well ; 
More useful is the Mason still. 
Small good the Painter's talent brings ; 
He gives us but the shade of things. 
His painted fire no warmth bestows ; 
His sun no radiance round it throws ; 
His fruits distil no generous juice ; 
No balmy sweets his herbs diffuse ; 
Nor flesh nor blood his beasts possess ; 
His wine imparts no joyousness. 

HANS SACHS. 

This proverb true you'll find throughout — 

He blames an art who knows it not. 

What use the Painter's skill attends, 

Three things will clearly shew, my friends. 

The legacy history leaves to mankind, 

His colours more deeply imprint on the mind; — 

How our hosts under £chweppermann gain'd their 

renown; — 
How the emperor honour'd our bard with a crown. — 



The Contest in Verse. 309 

Who the drift of a anting cannot understand, 

Finds it plain in the Painter's more legible hand ; — 

Which teaches how vice has mischance for its end, 

How honour and blessing the virtuous attend. — 

And, secondly, mark — 'tis Painting dispels 

The sadness that often with solitude dwells ; 

She brightens the gloomy sorrow of earth, 

And kindles the eye with the lustre of mirth. — 

And, thirdly, where is the art but allows 

How much to the Painter's art it owes ? 

Mason and goldsmith — whoever they be, 

Graver and weaver — they all agree, 

Without him their craft would helpless be. 

When Zeuxis, Apelles, Protogenes' name 

Had wide o'er the land of the Greeks spread their fame, 

The art of the Painter above the rest 

By every voice was queen confess'd. — 

God's grace has richly bless'd our land 

With many an artist's skilful hand, 

And Albrecht Diirer's genius given, 

To adorn our life with light from heaven. 

That the seed he has sown may ever wax 

Into plentiful harvests, prays Hans Sachs. 

Thus sang the poet; and his opponents 
were silent. Full of inward delight, I tapped 
him on the shoulder, and gave liirn to under- 
stand, that he had spoken to me as if out of 
my own soul. All loaded him with marks of 
approbation, and not least Michael Behaim. 



3io 



Norica. 



He took off his wreath, and placed it on the 
head of Hans Sachs, Niirnberg's accom- 
plished shoemaker. 



A; 



S8i 



o- 



t$> 









CHAPTER VII. 




DURER RECEIVES A VISIT FROM THOMAS OF 
BOLOGNA, A PUPIL OF RAPHAEL. 

had no rest, and could not re- 
main in the house, which, wea- 
ried with many walks on busi- 
ness, I had hardly entered. " If 
she is an orphan/' I asked myself, " why 
is she then withheld from me, who desire to 
cherish and take care of her ? And if she 
has parents, what have they to object to me? 
I desire no dowry with her. Even if I pay 
for her wedding-dress, I am contented." Amid 
such thoughts, I went down the stairs, and 
passed quickly through the house, that the 
maidens in the kitchen might not perceive 
my restless state. At the Townhall I saw 
persons standing before the black board, to 
which, from time to time, the orders of the 



3 1 2 Norica. 



magistrates were affixed. Full of curiosity, 
as I always am, I went up to it, and read 
from the tablet, under the lattice-work, as 
follows : 

" A foreigner, who is offering for sale here 
certain works of art, and among them some 
which bear Diirer* s signature, but which are 
not a genuine impression, is prohibited, under 
a penalty, from selling the same : the which 
is hereby made known to the public." 

" It is scandalous," I exclaimed, " noble 
friend! that any one should so spoil thy just 
desert, as to lower thy fame as an artist, 
by smuggling sickly sheep into thy glorious 
flock. Love of gain is the motive for inflict- 
ing this mortification on Diirer. But I see no 
reason why I should suffer. It is wilfulness 
that gives me pain, merely to give me pain. 
But I am tired of doubtful suspense. To-day 
Diirer must speak out, and this very day 
must he assure me of the possession of the 
lovely Bosenthalerin. " Thinking thus, I 
found myself already before Durer's house, 
and knocked at the door. "" And to-day again 



Diirer 9 s Letter from Raphael. 313 

nothing will come of it/' said I to myself, as 
I waited a moment, " for Herr Diirer is not 
at home, and with him fails my only conso- 
lation." 

But the door was unbarred, and by Diirer 
himself. Intoxicated with joy, so as I had 
never before seen him, he kissed me, and 
pressed me to his heart. " Welcome, my 
friend," he cried, as he looked me in the 
face ; " you have come to fill up the mea- 
sure of happiness which has this day entered 
my humble dwelling. I have received from 
Rome, from the divine Raphael Sanzio, a let- 
ter and engravings. Celebrate with me this 
festal day. I am myself going to the won- 
derful city of the Tiber." He again em- 
braced me with overflowing fervour, whilst 
I, little inclined to return his greeting, im- 
plored him to hear me. " First allow me 
only two words." " Nay, a thousand and 
a thousand, dearest friend ! " With these 
words, he pushed open the door of the lower 
apartment, and forced me in. 

To my great vexation, I found here a 



3H 



Norica. 



foreign youth, who, as I immediately per- 
ceived, had come from beyond the Alps, and 
to whom the Italian dress was very becoming. 
The table before him was covered with draw- 
ings and engravings, and at the side, placed 
on two stools, was the picture — my picture 
with the Virgin. To see the Rosenthalerin 
and not to speak of her, was like the pains 
of hell. Any one else would have suspected 
jealousy in the burning eyes of the Italian, 
as he surveyed with fixed look the angelic 
form. I stood calmly there. As I went in 
at the door, I presumed I was to pay Frau 
Agnes a reluctant visit ; but I now observed 
(what was actually the case) that she must be 
gone out ; for on a sideboard I saw a large 
pitcher of wine and baked cakes. 

" Herr Thomas of Bologna,"* said my host, 
" Raphael's worthy disciple ; and here, Herr 
Jacob Heller, from Frankfurt, a friend of the 



* As in the Ms. ' Polonia ' was written for Bologna, the 
name 6 Thomas Polonius ' has been changed into Thomas 
of Bologna, although a Bolognese of the name of Thomas 
does not appear in the list of Raphael's pupils. 



Raphael 9 s Letter. 315 

arts, and owner of this picture." Thomas cor- 
dially offered me his hand, and said, " You 
have made there a beautiful purchase. It 
is splendid, most splendid I" I would have 
joined in its praises, but Diirer, with so 
much haste that his down-flowing and beau- 
tifully-curled hair was thrown into disorder, 
rushed up to me with a letter in his hand, 
and said, in a voice trembling with joy, 
u There, read it ! This letter Herr Thomas 
has brought me from Rome, from the prince 
of all painters, from the divine Raphael. Not 
long since, I sent him my portrait, with the 
large picture of the ' Passion of our Saviour,' 
only (God knows) to express my veneration 
for him, by sending him a few lines — only 
to tell him, that even our city was filled with 
the voice of his fame ; and see ! he sends me 
this letter and these invaluable presents in 
return. Look ; but first, I pray you, read the 
letter." 

I too had heard of Raphael of Urbino, and 
how, with the Florentine, Michel Angelo, he 
had made the seat of the holy fathers, Ju- 



3 1 6 Norica. 

lius and Leo, glorious with the wonders of 
art ; and it was most interesting to me to see 
his handwriting. The purport of the letter 
was, in German, to the following effect : 

ee The pleasure which you conferred on 
me by your valued present, my friend Tho- 
mas must describe to you, and supply what 
these few lines, by which I pay you the tri- 
bute of my thanks, may fail to express. Your 
name has long been the object of my vene- 
ration; henceforth will your countenance, full 
of patriarchal dignity, become so. You know 
how to handle your colours so skilfully, that 
I half mistook your painting in tempera for 
oil-painting, till my young friends convinced 
me of my error. The same glow of life 
which colours here display, you have dis- 
covered the method of breathing into wood- 
cuts. In reference to richness of execution, 
I fear that the drawings and engravings which 
I send herewith, will, from their simplicity, 
contrast unfavourably with your own designs ; 
neither do they satisfy myself, though they 
have hitherto satisfied all my friends, if they 



Raphael's Drawings and Portrait. 317 

do not flatter me. You will herewith re- 
ceive^ among other things, the head of a 
Madonna, which I have made use of in an 
altar-piece for the church of St. Sixtus at 
Piacenza. As good hints and beautiful wo- 
men are alike rare, I follow a certain idea 
which pervades my mind. Whether this in 
any degree answers to the elevation of art, 
I know not. Cease not to love me, as I with 
my whole heart love you. 

" Your devoted 

" Raphael Saxzio." 

The drawings were truly divine, and most 
of all, the portrait of the painter, with the 
simple cap. No painter could give a higher 
purity to the angel Raphael. The engrav- 
ings were all works of Raphael, by his pupil, 
Mark Antony of Bologna. 

We now applied ourselves to the refresh- 
ment which Diirer had provided ; and he 
proved so attentive a host, that not a nail- 
drop * of wine remained in the pitcher. We 

* Xagelprobe — the nail-test in drinking, by which it is 



3 1 8 Norica. 



talked much of the land which will ever be 
the object of the artist's longing; and I lis- 
tened attentively., and the more, because 
every glimpse of the Eosenthalerin was in- 
tercepted by Diirer's easy chair. 

In reply to my question, what had induced 
Herr Thomas to take a journey from the land 
of flowers to our fields of ice, he told me, that 
he wished to visit at Brussels his former fel- 
low-student, Bernhard of Orlay, now court- 
painter to the wife of the governor of the 
Netherlands, for he could no longer restrain 
his wish to see him; and that Master Al- 
brecht, when he returned home, would ac- 
company him to Rome.* " Yes, that 1 will," 
cried Diirer, enraptured at the idea; " I must 

proved that the vessel is thoroughly emptied, scarcely a 
drop remaining to be put upon a man's nail, and even this 
drop being sipped off the nail. 

* This plan was not put in execution, since Raphael 
died on Good Friday, 1520. Instead of the journey he 
had designed, Diirer in this year, accompanied by his wife 
and the maid Susanna, made an artistic tour to the Nether- 
lands. The end he had in view, however— to gain some- 
thing by taking portraits, and disposing of his copper-plates 
and woodcuts — failed. 



Driver's first Visit to Italy. 319 

behold Raphael face to face, and I must again 
salute my friends in Venice and Padua and 
Bologna." i( Have you already been in our 
country?" asked Thomas. 

u Yes, I was then thirteen years younger. 
The German Company in Venice had in- 
vited me to adorn the Church of St. Bartho- 
lomew, which belongs to them, in a manner 
suitable to the holiness of its destination, 
and to the high position which the Ger- 
mans occupy in that city. For this reason 
the Italian painters were envious, and did 
much to annoy me, which I bore good-tem- 
per edly. All the beautiful objects which I 
daily saw, especially in St. Mark's Place, 
abundantly compensated me; and while there 
I missed neither my native city, nor my 
friends, nor my wife. Yes, Venice ^is cer- 
tainly, after Rome, the most wonderful of 
cities, and seems almost to belong to fairy- 
land. No one would repent taking a journey 
thither, if only to see the Church of St. Mark, 
covered with its gilded windows, which seems 
as if it were composed of precious stones, 



320 Norica. 



with its gorgeous entrances, and its horses of 
bronze, and its gilded cupolas." 

" I listen to what you have to tell me 
of Venice, with so much the more pleasure, 
as I every week receive letters on busi- 
ness from the city of St. Mark. But tell 
me, what do the horses do on the cathedral, 
since the lion is sacred to the Evangelist 
Mark?" 

" Herr Fugger of Augsburg," replied 
Diirer, " who was the head director of the 
German Company in Venice, and who took a 
father's interest in me, solved this enigma for 
me. The Emperor Barbarossa, who lived in 
enmity with the whole of Upper Italy, swore 
that as soon as he had subjugated Venice, 
which was particularly hostile to him, he 
would convert the cathedral there into a 
stable. Venice was obliged to yield to the 
power of the emperor, and he considered it 
a duty to fulfil the vow he had made. He 
actually did introduce horses into the house 
of God, but they were horses of bronze, the 
master-pieces of Lysippus. A splendid ap- 



Diirer m Venice. 321 

pearance do the four horses make over the 
richly adorned arch of the entrance." 

"After the Church of St. Mark," I inter- 
rupted hira, u surely the most remarkable 
object must be the Bridge of the Rialto, on 
which the cloth-warehouse of my business- 
friend Fusrsrer stands." 

" Every thing in the city of the Lagunes/ 5 
he continued, " is more or less remarkable. 
As with us the principal people keep their 
carriages, so there they have rocking gondo- 
las ; and as men here exhibit bears and apes 
for money, so there horses and asses. Every 
day there looks like a holiday ; every where 
are heard players on the fife and the lute, 
who play so sweetly that the tears come 
into our eyes. But what shall T say of the 
painters, of whom there are more, and more 
eminent, than any where else ? It cost me 
great pains to gain the friendship of these 
men, who disliked me even before they had 
seen me. My workshop was in Fugger's 
house ; and I sketched many designs for the 
decoration of the Church of St. Bartholomew. 



322 Norica. 

A part of these were executed ; but the Ita- 
lian painters would not bear it, and secretly 
injured my paintings, and insulted me. They 
called me Duro, and thought that every thing 
I did must be hard and coarse. They consi- 
dered me as a hard, and indeed a sort of wild, 
man, who had come from Germany — from 
the farthest north, where the men learn man- 
ners from the bears, and language from the 
wolves; where light was admitted into the 
houses only through masses of ice, as soon as 
they were not covered up to the roofs in snow ; 
where people went to walk on the rivers, 
and so forth. Such things vexed me 3 and I 
resolved to adopt the polished manners of 
the Italians. I diligently learned their truly 
beautiful language, and wrote to my friend 
Pirckheimer Italian letters which astonished 
him. I put off my own dress, and exchanged 
it for that which was worn there ; and I gave 
a dancing-master a ducat to improve my car- 
riage. However, I only went twice to the 
dancing-school before I had had enough of it. 
I perceived that this was not the true way 



Jealousy of Italian Artists. 323 

to gain respect, and I returned to my easel. 
On it stood at that time a picture just begun, 
intended to adorn the high altar of the afore- 
said church, and which represented the mar- 
tyrdom of St. Bartholomew. The Italians 
may laugh, I thought to myself; but when 
this painting is finished, their rivals them- 
selves shall do honour to the Germans. Along 
with this I painted also some small pictures, 
and made a variety of copper-plate engrav- 
ings, and all succeeded. At first the painters 
had hated me, because I took away their 
work from them; now they persecuted me 
out of envy, because they saw that I painted 
better than they did. Greater miscreants 
than live there, I think, do not exist on the 
face of the earth, whom, nevertheless, you 
would say, till you knew them, were the 
most agreeable of men. A skilful mas- 
ter, Pordenone, who afterwards became my 
friend, never painted without a drawn sword 
by his side, because a rival was plotting 
against his life. For this reason many whom 
I had gained as friends among the Venetians, 



3 24 Norica. 

warned me not to eat and drink in the 
tavern with their native painters. Their 
judgment now of my works, as my country- 
men secretly informed me, was, that I could 
do a little in engraving, but did not know 
how to use colours, and knew nothing of the 
antique." 

" Now, Herr Albrecht," said the foreigner, 
" how would they be ashamed to be obliged 
to recall their judgment ! What a glow of 
colouring is there in this Assumption of the 
Virgin; and what elevated simplicity, the 
true character of the antique, is impressed 
on this Madonna ! It is incomparably beau- 
tiful." 

ee True," said Diirer, " I do now paint in 
a better style than formerly; but I no longer 
satisfy myself as I once did. Now many pic- 
tures of my youth, which once brought me 
honour, displease me, and with reason ; and, 
in fact, if I did not know them to be my 
own works, I should hardly recognise them 
as such. But, with the improvement in my 
taste, the joy of creation is gone. You are 



Dilrer on his own Works. 325 

still young, Herr Thomas ; remember my 
words, that you also will in time taste this 
bitter experience. Formerly I liked gay co- 
louring — I might even say a sharp contrast 
of colour — and I was an admirer of my own 
works. When I grew older, I knew how to 
appreciate the beauty of statues, and I disco- 
vered that simplicity is the highest ornament 
of art. Now I sigh, because I never can at- 
tain it. Each one of my works is a monument 
of my deficiency." 

" Leave it to the Venetian painters," I 
rejoined, " to pronounce such a judgment ; 
they were angry, because you deprived them 
of their bread. It was their hungry sto- 
machs that attacked you. Tell us how you 
contrived to quiet them." 

" I painted," continued the narrator, " di- 
ligently at my Bartholomew ; and every day 
its effect corresponded more to the thought 
that floated in my mind. But the flower re- 
quires to be tended and watered, that it may 
unfold itself, and attract regard at once by 
its perfume and blossom ; and so did I, amid 



2^6 Norica. 

my quiet diligence, painfully feel the want of 
counsel and encouragement from judicious 
friends. I therefore determined, in some way 
or other, to procure for myself the esteem 
of some of the painters, who shewed me so 
much unkindness, but were, in other respects, 
worthy men. The best painter at that time 
was Johann Bellini, an old man, who must 
be long since dead, but whose spirit still 
lives in his disciple, the mighty Tizian." 

" Johann Bellini is immortal in a double 
sense," said Thomas ; " he has recently ce- 
lebrated his ninety-third birthday. But a 
few years since he painted, with the assist- 
ance of Tizian, a beautiful picture for the 
Archduke of Eerrara, representing a baccha- 
nalian scene, in playful groups. When I 
last visited him, and told him of my inten- 
tion to go to Germany, and to Nurnberg, 
he remembered you with touching interest, 
and thought that if he had been ten years 
younger, he would have ventured to accom- 
pany me in my journey, in order to surprise 
you by a visit. He shewed me a painting of 



Johann Bellini. 327 

yours, and bade me again and again c greet 
the German Apelles. 5 " 

" This greeting," cried Durer, moved even 
to tears, " this greeting I reckon among the 
presents you have brought me, and shall re- 
main your debtor for the rest of my life. And 
so the old master still lives and thinks of me ? 
His venerable presence made an ineffaceable 
impression on me at first sight, and my wish 
to please him grew stronger after I became 
an admirer of his paintings. Master Bellini 
received my expressions of affection coldly ; 
and I learnt with bitter wrath that some 
young painters (I will not name them) had 
blackened me in his opinion, and represented 
my labours as an artist, as a mere contrivance 
to get money. For a long time I trembled 
to enter his painting-room ; at length my 
courage took wing, and I hastened to him. 
By accident the painting -room was open, and 
no one within. On the easel was an unfinish- 
ed portrait of the Doge Loredano, which even 
in its commencement gave promise of per- 
fection. I waited in vain for the master, and 



328 Norica. 

induced by ennui — for I never could sit still 
when there were pencils and palette before 
me — I painted, by way of a joke, a fly on the 
forehead of the portrait. I slipped away like 
a thief, fearing discovery, and I was now as 
much pleased to meet no one, as I had before 
been vexed. When Johann Bellini came 
back to his easel, he, as he afterwards told 
me, tried to scare the fly away; he looked 
up, and saw it again in the same place, and 
again drove it away, but in vain; the fly 
would not and could not move, for it was 
painted. Meantime Tizian came into the 
room; he had scarcely looked at the por- 
trait, when he blew, and cried out, s There 
is no knowing what to do with the flies in 
summer, though they often pay for their for- 
wardness by leaving their feet behind them.' 
Master Bellini burst into a loud laugh, when 
he tried to remove it, and told him how he 
himself had been deceived. Tizian, who for 
the most part thought contemptuously of the 
artists among his own countrymen, declared 
rather saucily, that no Venetian painter could 



The Fly on Bellini's Picture, 329 

paint such a fly as that, and that without 
doubt the trick had been played by the 
foreigner from whose hand he had seen a 
glorious picture in the Church of St. Bar- 
tholomew. The stranger was a German, but 
he was the periwinkle among the wild heath, 
Albrecht Diirer. Johann asked him where 
Albrecht lived ; and Tizian offered himself as 
guide to his house. Alone, and at peace with 
myself, I was painting the head of St. Bar- 
tholomew, and at the same time whistling a 
favourite tune. I did not observe that the 
door was opened behind me, and that strangers 
had entered ; and it was only after they had 
stood some time behind my stool, that I heard 
some one clear his throat. I turned round 
quickly, and saw Tizian, and on the other 
side stepped forward Johann Bellini, the two 
most celebrated masters of renowned Venice. 
I suddenly sprang up, snatched the cap from 
my head, and looked around for a seat : no 
other, however, was to be found than the 
one I had just quitted. I pushed it towards 
the aged gentleman, who had done an un- 



33° Norica. 

known stranger the favour to mount up so 
many steps and visit him in his untidy room. 
My embarrassment, however, was at the high- 
est, when I saw the chair all soiled, for in my 
surprise I had let fall the pallet on its back. 
While I cleansed the seat for the grey-headed 
master, Tizian had already selected a chest for 
his throne, and begged I would not stand 
upon ceremony. e My dear sirs/ I began, 
' I perceive that I owe the honour of this 
visit to the request of Herr Fugger (for 
Tizian was an intimate friend of his), since 
I told him, that I should be very glad to 
submit this altar-piece, before its final com- 
pletion and setting up, to the judgment of 
experienced masters ; for I am but young 
and unpractised.' ' I am still younger,' said 
Tizian, € and certainly could not offer my- 
self as your teacher.' c And I,' interrupted 
Johann, c am by no means come here, as you 
may think, to be your panegyrist, but rather 
to call you to account for an affront you have 
put upon me. You have been seen to-day 
slipping away out of my painting-room, and 



The Explanation. 331 

— do not deny it — it is you who have spoiled 
my picture.' e Why should I have done it/ 
I then said ; c I, who have here suffered so 
much from the malicious tricks of envy ? for 
the Italian painters, before I took sufficient 
care to prevent it, injured my paintings in 
St. Bartholomew's Church, and in the faces 
of the angels scratched out the eyes with 
their nails, as they would no doubt have 
willingly done to me.' ' So much the less 
unreasonable, then, will you think it/ re- 
sumed Johann, ' that I should wish such evil- 
doers to be punished ; and it will not appear 
strange to you, if I at once accuse you before 
the Signoria, partly of having violated my 
domestic rights, and partly of having mali- 
ciously injured my work.' ' But remember/ 
I said, almost entreatingly, e that the head 
had only the ground-colour painted/ e So !' 
cried the good old man, with a benignant 
smile, ' it was you then who painted the fly? 
Success to you ! Something great will come 
of you. The claw betrays the lion. But this 
magnificent picture offers me at too cheap a 



33 2 Norica. 

rate, the fame of an unerring prophet; for you 
are already great — you have already attained 
the point at which I leave off.' I hung my 
head; embarrassed, since Johann, as well as 
Tizian, overwhelmed me with panegyrics, 
shook me by the hand, and encouragingly 
tapped me on the shoulder. c Young Ger- 
man,' they said, ' you are come here to teach 
us, whereas formerly your countrymen came 
only to learn? With the most hearty ap- 
proval both surveyed the martyrdom of St. 
Bartholomew, and only pointed out a few 
faults, which I promised to correct. Johann 
praised beyond measure the head of the saint, 
whose eye so vividly expressed that, for all 
his martyrdom, a reward was not wanting, 
and especially the delicate treatment of the 
hair ; and he asked me what kind of pencil I 
could possibly use to paint the hair so fine 
and free. I then shewed him a whole bundle 
of pencils of different sorts, and convinced 
him by trial, that even with the largest pencil 
I could paint the finest hair. At this the 
Italian painters were not a little astonished. 



Diirefs Imitators in Italy. 233 

They now left nie "with the warmest assur- 
ances of friendship ; and Johann ordered me, 
as I intended soon to quit Venice, to paint a 
picture for him at any price, as a souvenir; 
and I promised him to do so. Who was hap- 
pier than I ?" 

" Johann Bellini was quite right/' said 
Thomas, "in thinking that the Italians should 
come to learn of you. The designs of your 
woodcuts, which have perhaps been no where 
more valued than in Italy, have found many 
imitators. I name only Joachim Pontormo, 
who borrowed from you a landscape back- 
ground, and whose master, Andrea del Sarto, 
has copied many figures from you. And it 
now occurs to me, that when I was examin- 
ing in Ferrara the bacchanalian piece just 
mentioned, by Bellini and Tizian, I was 
struck with a certain foreign peculiarity, and 
that I perceived the same again in the altar- 
piece at St. Bartholomew^ church. The si- 
milarity which seemed to me accidental, was 
therefore not so. Your copiousness of ideas 
surprised even, as the story goes, the great 



334 Norica. 

Michel Angelo, and he burnt your copper- 
plates through vexation and jealousy." 

" If he destroyed them/' said I, at length 
breaking silence, " another, Herr Diirer, has 
taken care to renew your engravings. On 
my way hither, I learned that a stranger is 
daring to offer for sale woodcuts with your 
signature, which are not genuine." 

" I know why," said Diirer. " To the pa- 
ternity of these that malicious rogue Marco 
Antonio has helped me, who is your coun- 
tryman and fellow-pupil ; and to him I owe 
these copper-plates after Raphael. It was 
not enough that he engraved after me the 
Great Passion; he is now even offering 
for sale impressions of the hundred plates 
representing the Life of the Virgin. Since 
these are without doubt his work, and since 
he has re-produced the original designs with 
extreme accuracy, even to my initials A. D., 
he cannot fail to have gained much by them. 
Without a careful comparison, an unpractised 
eye might easily mistake his dry copper-plates 
for my vigorous woodcuts. It is disgraceful 



Counterfeits of Dure fs Works. 335 

that this spurious brood should be passed off 
in Germany, and even in my native city dur- 
ing my own lifetime, and that the magistrates 
should not punish the shamelessness of the 
print-seller by seizing these bastard sheets. 
But the State takes no better care of the pro- 
perty of the artist in Venice. Marco Antonio 
came to Venice in his nineteenth year, and 
from gratitude exchanged his family name for 
that of his first teacher, Francia. He had 
acquired some reputation by various essays 
in copper-plate engraving, and attached him- 
self warmly to me, because he heard that I 
was a master of the same art. I lent him 
for study, sketches, copper-plates, and wood- 
cuts, and requested him many times to give 
me a proof of his diligence. He once gave 
for answer, that there were already copper- 
plates of his in my hands. I quickly looked 
through the collection which he had borrow- 
ed from me and returned, but I found nothing. 
How great was his triumph, then, when he 
shewed me that some which appeared to be 
woodcuts were imitations in copper, which 



336 Norica. 



he had executed by way of practice. Al- 
though on nearer view I discovered many 
faults, yet I commended his laudable zeal. 
We fell out, however, when we had been 
the best friends. Marco Antonio came to 
Venice from Bologna poorly supplied with 
cash ; nevertheless no price was too high for 
him to pay for good impressions of my wood- 
cuts, which I there offered for sale. He was 
soon in possession of a good collection, but 
without a penny in his pocket wherewith to 
satisfy the cravings of his hungry stomach. 
In order to pacify that, he thought it might 
be permitted him to nibble at my bread; so, 
with a few strokes, he placed on the copper- 
plates- which he had just finished, A. D., and 
cried aloud : ' Go forth, and teach all the 
heathen V He had reference in those words 
to the despisers of my art. I cannot deny that 
I principally have to thank the roguery of 
Marco Antonio for the spread of my fame in 
Italy, for he sold the plates for a mere trifle. 
I was not, however, satisfied with this, and 
lodged a complaint against him before the 



Durer's Success at Venice. 337 

Signoria ; but I could obtain no prohibition 
against the sale of the plates : Marco Antonio 
was only ordered to remove my signature 
from them. Like all half measures for the 
removal of evil, this was ineffectual. With- 
out even bidding me farewell, Marco Antonio 
went to Rome, and became the friend of Ra- 
phael. I only envy him this friendship, not 
the gold he has gained.' 5 

" It is sometimes the way of the world," 
said I, " that the poor man lives on the rich, 
and your fellow -artists in Nurnberg serve 
you in the same manner. Since I have been 
here, I have already seen many woodcuts, 
from which the signature of the actual work- 
man had been scratched out, and yours sub- 
stituted in its place. But you have still to 
tell us of Venice, and Johann Bellini, and 
many others." 

" I now daily took my meals together with 
Bellini, Tizian, and Giorgione. The painter 
Giorgione was the handsomest and most ac- 
complished man whom I had ever known. It 
is a pity that the unrestrained ardour of youth- 



33% Norica. 

ful passion will only too early consume him. 
He gained the hearts of all women by his play- 
ing on the lute. Some paintings of his were, 
for their clear tone of colouring, preferred 
to those of his master Bellini. Fugger's 
cloth-warehouse, which the Venetians had 
rebuilt for the Germans, after it had been re- 
duced to ashes in the war with Maximilian, 
was painted on the exterior by Tizian and 
Giorgione jointly. There were to be seen 
biblical and allegorical representations, with 
landscapes and beautiful decorations. Tizian 
had succeeded very well in the landscapes, 
in executing which he had taken hints from 
German painters ; but Giorgione's paint- 
ings, although I did not equally comprehend 
their meaning, were without doubt the best. 
These painters, and also Palma and Porde- 
none, were friendly towards me ; and although 
they had formerly said, that I did not under- 
stand how to manage colours, they now ac- 
knowledged that they had never seen more 
beautiful colouring. They often obliged me 
to join in their festivities, and adopted me 



He completes the Altar-piece. 339 

into their schools of painting, for which pur- 
pose I had to sacrifice many a gulden. My 
fame became greater every day; the great and 
distinguished often paid their respects to me; 
and I was obliged at last to conceal and deny 
myself; otherwise, from so many visits, little 
work would have been done. My friends at 
home now pressed me to return to Nurnberg; 
and I therefore worked with increased dili- 
gence at the paintings in St. Bartholomew, 
and at a Madonna, which I had destined as 
an offering of friendship to Johann Bellini. 
I now rose earlier from table, and deprived 
myself of many hours of sleep. At length 
the altar-piece was finished, and was with 
much state borne to the church, and set up. 
I earned great praise, but little else, for I 
received but eighty -five ducats, and might 
have 2fained during that time full two hun- 
dred — I received so many orders, which I 
quite declined. I did not, however, repent 
it; and a still greater honour awaited me. 
His Grace the Doge sent me word that he 
wished, on an appointed day, to see the pic- 



34° Norica. 

ture, of which the fame was so great. Thi- 
ther I went, and saw the most splendid gon- 
dolas standing at the bridge ; and in the 
church was a crowd of people, and among 
them many painters. I was received with 
much respect, and conducted to the altar, 
where I found the Doge Loredano and the 
High-Chancellor — the latter in a long black 
robe, the former in one laced with gold, with 
long hanging sleeves ; and besides them the 
venerable Patriarch. The Doge, who was a 
connoisseur, declared openly that in no church 
in Venice was there a more beautiful paint- 
ing, and presented me with this valuable 
ring, which he drew from his finger. I 
scarcely knew what was going forward, and 
spoke not a word. As I left the church, I 
said to myself, ' This honour is too great, and 
it is high time that thou shouldst quit the 
city of St. Mark, or thou wilt be obliged to 
bear about with thee a dagger as well as a 
pencil.' In two days more I had packed up 
and travelled to Padua; from thence, but 
not by the direct road, to Mantua; first, how- 



Visit to Francia. 341 

ever, to Bologna, whither the excellent Fran- 
cia had invited me — Francia, who knew 
that he was surpassed by Raphael, and hon- 
oured him, and who wished to initiate me 
into the secrets of perspective, the principles 
of which he thought he had thoroughly mas- 
tered. He received me with paternal affec- 
tion; but I learnt from him nothing new. 
The consideration which I had acquired in 
Venice was of service to me during my whole 
journey; and I returned to Niirnberg like a 
child dragged away from its playthings and 
sent back to school. 

" How depressed I was ! How did I, at 
home, freeze for want of the sun ! There I 
was my own master, but here — " 

I pitied the noble artist, and the foreigner 
partook of my feeling. " Come to Rome, 
then," cried he, " if you are not happy here, 
and stay there all your life." "Nay, not 
so," replied Diirer. " A Niirnberger does not 
quit his native city. At Antwerp I was once 
offered three hundred gulden as a pension and 
a fine house, with the promise that I should 



34 2 Norica. 

be well paid for all my works ; but full of love 
for the imperial city, I declined it." 

" Yes, spare to Germany trie German 
Apelles!" I exclaimed. " But tell us, Herr 
Thomas, something of Rome, and of the re- 
nowned painter of ITrbino." In this man- 
ner I contrived to divert the melancholy 
humour which seemed to be creeping over 
Durer. " Yes" — he joined me with a bright- 
ened countenance in requesting — " yes, tell 
me something new of the painter of painters ; 
repeat to me again how he thinks, how he 
lives, how he is honoured." 

" You call Raphael a painter," began 
Thomas ; " call him rather artist, call him 
philosopher ; for his youthful spirit embraces 
all that is grand and beautiful. Rome, that, 
ever happily renewed, has seen from her 
seven hills kingdoms rise and fall, and fears 
not the caprices of fortune, is now illumi- 
nated by a Raphael, as though he were 
sent to the Eternal City to renew her an- 
cient glory. When Raphael entered the holy 
places, a breath as of home greeted him, and 



Raphael's Universality. 343 

he resolved never again to quit them. A 
new life buds for him out of the ruins of the 
past. You would take him for a sculptor, 
did you see him going among the broken 
marble images, and paying homage to the 
heathen deities ; for an architect, when he is 
measuring the rows of pillars and mauso- 
leums, and comparing them with the rules 
laid down by Vitruvius ; for a student of 
history, when he points out the places where 
the herdsman discovered the twin brothers, 
the grotto in which the old king held con- 
verse with the nymph Egeria, the forum 
where Caesar fell at the foot of Pompey's pil- 
lar. Raphael is no man — no, he is a mortal 
god. The Pope has recently committed to 
him the erection of St. Peter's church, that 
its cupolas, like his own fame, may rise above 
the hills of Rome. Raphael, in his modesty, 
calls the undertaking the flight of Icarus. 
However, what a Daedalus could effect will 
not fail with him." 

" Did he go immediately from his native 
city to Rome?" I asked — less, however, for the 



344 Norica. 



information than to give a turn to the dis- 
course. " By no means/' he replied. " It 
was in Florence that his genius, whose flight 
the dry manner of his master Perugino had 
at first retarded, entered on the career where 
it has displayed so brilliant an example. He 
often declares that he owes to the Floren- 
tines all that is good in his works. It was 
the late Pope Julius, who, in the fifth year 
of his pontificate, invited him to Rome, and 
assigned him a hall in the Vatican to adorn 
with large frescoes. The confidence placed in 
the unpretending youth appeared to all most 
strange, until the event more than justified 
it; for although the most renowned of the Flo- 
rentine masters had here given proof of their 
skill, it was nevertheless the paintings of Ra- 
phael alone which excited the admiration 
of the Pope and of all connoisseurs in art. 
4 Raphael shall paint all the chambers anew :' 
such was the command of the decided Julius. 
As Raphael once entered the splendid cham- 
bers, he saw a whole host of masons destroy- 
ing with reckless zeal the labours of eminent 



His Works in the Vatican. 345 

painters. He turned away from the sight 
with sorrow ; and when he learned what was 
about to be done, he hastened to the Pope, 
kissed his feet, and implored him with tears, 
' Holy father, put a stop to the destruction ! 
Not yet is the ceiling which my master Peru- 
gino painted with pious diligence defaced by 
rude hands. Preserve it still to a later age, 
and spare to me a monument of grateful re- 
membrance.' ' Let it be so,' replied the Pope, 
kindly ; c but trust me, I was more careful 
for the fame of thy master when I wished it 
destroyed, than thou, when thou urgest me to 
preserve it; for hereafter the works of the 
scholar will be compared with those of the 
master.' " 

iC Was, then, Raphael's genius immedi- 
ately recognised as it deserved ?" I asked. 
" But few artists are permitted to share this 
good fortune with him." 

" No wonder," said Thomas ; " where such 
a diamond glitters, it will be lifted from the 
dust and placed in a crown. The Pope now 
ruling loves him no less than did Julius. All 



346 Noricq. 

distinguished and learned persons are proud 
of Raphael's friendship ; for instance, Cardi- 
nals Bembo and Castiglione. He will soon 
be himself adorned with a Cardinal's hat. 
He as extolled to heaven by his numerous 
pupils, whom he keeps employed not only 
in Rome but throughout Italy, and even 
in Greece ; for wherever they find any re- 
mains of antique architecture or statuary of 
a beautiful form, he makes them copy it 
for him. He lives not like a painter, but 
a prince ; and when he quits his house, 
he sees himself surrounded by perhaps fifty 
painters, who think it an honour to accom- 
pany him. 55 

" Is his merit, then, universally recog- 
nised?" asked Diirer, with a serious coun- 
tenance. 

" You put a question to me which I would 
willingly leave unanswered, to avoid a pain- 
ful feeling. Understand, then, that there is 
one man who does not value him, whose 
judgment he would consider as the first — 
Michel Angelo Buonarotti. Raphael often 



Michel Angela's Moses. 



347 



thanks God that he was born during the life- 
time of a Michel Angelo ; while, on the con- 
trary, the latter declares that Raphael owes 
his art merely to his unceasing diligence. 
When you observe the commanding statue of 
Moses, which he has erected at the tomb of 
Julius, you might think you saw the haughty 
Florentine himself, when he met the sud- 
den rage of this Pope, and forced him to 
condescend to supplication. Yes — he it is 
who returns Raphael's affection by mortify- 
ing him." 

To my question, "Is Michel Angelo, then, 
really as great as fame reports him ?" he 
replied with animation, t€ Yes, truly great. 
What Dante was among learned men and 
poets, such is Michel Angelo among painters 
and sculptors. In his Moses he has — not 
equalled the ancients, but surpassed them. 
How the horned patriarch sits there, sup- 
porting himself on the tables of the law; and 
in the wavy curls of his long beard, inimit- 
able by the pencil, playfully moves his hand ! 
The divinity on his brow terrifies one by the 



348 Norica. 

radiance which it sheds forth. The Hebrews, 
who are forbidden to have any holy image, 
make a pilgrimage every sabbath -day, in 
troops like cranes, to the church of St. Pe- 
ter's Chain, that in the Moses they may 
worship their God. When the work was 
finished, with one voice they all exclaimed, 
' Michel Angelo is the greatest of sculptors !' 
Then the Pope conceived the wish, that, as 
Raphael had painted the state-rooms of the 
Vatican, so Michel Angelo should adorn its 
chapel. He resisted, being ignorant of fresco- 
painting; but in vain. Famous painters from 
Florence were appointed to assist him. He 
consented, learned their art by observing 
them at work, then drove them from the 
scaffolding, and quite alone, in less than two 
years, painted the immense cupola of the 
chapel, where, amidst numberless figures of 
giant size, prophets and sibyls cry to you 
from above, ' Worship Art ; she is the re- 
vealer of God !' All now exclaimed, c Michel 
Angelo is the greatest of painters !' and Ra- 
phael joined the cry." 



Heller's Anticipations. 349 



Such things did Thomas relate to his at- 
tentive hearers. Meantime evening had come 
on, and I thought of going home, under the 
idea that the painters would have many sub- 
jects to talk of during which the presence 
of a layman might be unwelcome. In par- 
ticular, Thomas had often requested Diirer 
to shew him his sketches. I could tell be- 
forehand, that the conversation would be 
carried on far into the night. 

I took leave of the stranger and my host. 
The latter said to me, that I should find a 
letter at home, which, a short time before I 
had come in, the servant had carried to my 
inn. " What are the contents of the letter," 
I asked, " unless it contains an acknowledg- 
ment ?" " You will soon see," replied Diirer. 
" It is easier to write some things than to say 
them." When I heard that, a joyful antici- 
pation took possession of me, and I still more 
hastened my departure. What secret, thought 
I, can Diirer have to impart to me, if it does 
not concern the Rosenthalerin ? Before I 
dream of her to-night, I shall to-day receive 



3$o Norica. 



the key which, will decipher for me the 
mysterious characters of my fate. Arrived 
at the Golden Rose, I could not quickly 
enough get the letter and a light. I read 
as follows : 

" In the first place, accept my best service, 
dear Herr Heller. I have received the last 
hundred gulden for the picture, with thanks; 
and I think I have fairly earned them. A 
person in Niirnberg has offered me 300 gul- 
den for it, and Herr Sebald Schreyer will 
give me 400 gulden, if I will paint him a Vir- 
gin Mary in the same style. But this I have 
flatly refused, for I should in the meantime 
become a beggar. Nevertheless, be assured 
that I consider it a rich reward to have gained 
your friendship, which may you henceforth 
continue to me and mine. My wife begs to 
ask for a small present, in regard to which 
consult your own pleasure. 

" Albrecht Durer." 

In another letter from the same, one pas- 
sage ran thus : 



Diirer's Letters. 



35 l 



" The excellent wine which you have sent 
me, shall long serve as a refreshment to 
strengthen me after my work, and to remind 
me of your affection. My wife thanks you for 
your remembrance, and my younger brother 
for the two gulden, which you have sent him 
as a present." 





CHAPTER VIII. 

THE CROWNING OF THE POET PIliCKHEIMER. 

(Unfinished.) 

j aster Durer had informed me, 
by a few lines, that on Tuesday 
a festival would take place in 
the castle, at which I might like 
to be present. It was, that the Emperor, 
with his own hands, would place the crown 
of poetry on the head of Herr Pirckheimer. 
I have before mentioned some of the Latin 
poetry of this learned man, presented to the 
Emperor on his arrival by the magistrate, 
The poem was beyond measure ingeniously 
elaborate, and all unprejudiced persons de- 
clared, that such a one had never been com- 
posed before, and never could be again. For 
it contained the most elevated sentiments ; 
and what was most wonderful, when the 
initial letters of the verses were read in se- 



Pirckheimer's Poem. 3 53 

quence, these words were found: Maximi- 
lianus . Imperator . Semper . Augustus . Ar- 
chidux . Austria . Plurimarumque . Europce . 
Provinciarum . ife# . Et . Princeps . Poten- 
tissimus . and when the concluding letters of 
the verses were noticed, the same titles again 
occurred. 

Many will perhaps smile at the excessive 
labour bestowed on these lines ; but I con- 
sider it well applied. For, what do the poets 
usually do ? Instead of celebrating a hero, 
they call on the Muses and sing of Apollo 
and all the* gods without end. Therefore 
that Thessalian Scopas gave a poet only half 
the reward agreed upon for his panegyric, 
sending him to Castor and Pollux, who must 
be kind enough to pay him the other half, 
since he had exalted them still more zea- 
lously than himself. Between two fixed rows 
of letters, as in Pirckheimer's poem, just as 
between two barriers, the wild Pegasus must 
keep his course ; for the poet will be reminded 
right and left whom he has to celebrate. 

I had received Diirer's short letter. But 

A A 



354 Norica. 

when I got home late, I thought it would be 
of no use then to go to the castle. But being 
in doubt whether the priucipal persons would 
be exact to the hour, as I had recently had 
experience at the Townhall, I put on my full 
dress, and went to theVestner-gate. Already 
the tower Lug -ins -Land, whose name at 
my entrance into Niirnberg had sounded in 
my ear like a happy omen, seemed as with 
friendly look to beckon me. Lug-ins-Land!* 
I had obeyed this encouraging invitation, 
and repented it not. 

In front of the Himmels-gate many people 
were standing ; and I soon heard that they had 
not to wait long for the emperor this time, and 
that he was walking about in the castle-court. 
I pressed in at the gate, made my bow, and 
placed myself unnoticed among those who 
had assembled here to pay their respects. 
I was vexed, because I thought I had come 
after the festival ; but the Councillor Volck- 
amer, who gave me a friendly greeting, in- 

* Lug-ins- Land, — look into the country. 



Pirckheimer's Delay. 355 

formed me that Herr Pirckheimer had not 
yet appeared, and therefore I had not missed 
any thing. In fact, by the command of the 
emperor, they had told him nothing more 
than the other members of the magistracy ; 
namely, that his majesty wished to have the 
whole Council assembled at the appointed 
hour in the audience-chamber of the castle. 
Pircklieimer, therefore, had no idea that a 
surprise was intended for him ; and the bulky 
gentleman, to whom walking was a toil, took 
his own time, thinking, in his modesty, that 
among so many others he should not be 
missed. This was in the highest degree 
annoying to our Durer, who did not once 
give me a friendly look, but turned his eyes 
continually to the gate, to see whether he 
was yet appearing. 

Meantime the Emperor Maximilian, by 
whose side was the giant knight, Johannes 
von Schwarzenberg, as learned as he was 
brave, did not let the time hang heavy on his 
hands. Both were listening attentively to the 
Provost Pfinzing, who, pointing first to one 



3 $6 Norica. 

and then to another part of the wall, ex- 
plained to them how every thing had looked 
in former times. For he discerned in every 
stone to what citadel it had formerly belonged. 
He had much to relate of the pentangular 
tower on the limestone rock, and of the 
Lug -ins-Land. Between these 'two towers 
the noble Burg-graves of Zollern had erected 
their dwellings after the manner of eagles, 
that build their eyries on high. But they 
were once surprised by enemies in the night, 
and their castle set on fire. It lay in a heap 
of unsightly ruins ; but the towers, as though 
they had been built of iron, and were only 
hardened into steel by the flames, remained 
uninjured, and the latest generations will see 
their summits rising to heaven. The impe- 
rial stables now mark the place of the Zol- 
lern-castle. 

During his narration, Max thought of the 
glorious olden time, when a knight passed 
his days amid adventures and noble deeds; 
when the Christians with enthusiasm and 
devotion delivered the Holy Sepulchre from 



Maximilian's Chivalry. 357 

the infidels. The emperor's thoughts had, 
from tender infancy, turned to the con- 
quest of the infidels ; and when he con- 
sidered that in his own times infidels had 
penetrated into Europe, he trembled with 
rage and anguish. This Herr Pfinzing knew 
well, and therefore described in Teuerdank, 
how the manly hero, in accordance with a 
heavenly mission, goes forth against the hea- 
thens, and acquires in the field the renown 
of a truly Christian ruler. Max had already 
reached his sixtieth year; but he was still 
always occupied with the thought, how the 
bold Turk might be punished, and had even 
written to the Pope on the subject. Yes, 
had the emperor lived longer, the Crescent 
would long since have set, to the honour of 
Christendom. In the meantime, Pfinzing had 
led the emperor to the neighbouring Freiung, 
a strong bastion, and the whole train followed 
him. Within an enclosure here was a fierce 
bull, which, for greater security, was fastened 
to a stake. The timid provost slipped by 
here not without apprehension, and went to 






35% Norica. 

the wall, from which you look down the side 
of a precipitous rock into a deep chasm. In 
front of the wall Pfinzing drew attention to 
some deep marks in a stone, and related 
that they were traces of a horse's hoofs. 
For the Knight Eppo of Gaiiingen, when 
he was languishing here in the castle, after 
being taken prisoner by the Niirnbergers, 
broke the bars of his dungeon, carried off 
a spirited horse from the stable, and then 
from the bastion ventured the desperate leap 
into the valley, and successfully escaped. 
" That was a different time to the present/' 
began the emperor, " in which our provost is 
terrified at a tied-up bull, whose rope two 
such animals could not break." Pfinzing 
smiled ; but Schwarzenberg felt his pride 
wounded, and said in reply : " How so ? can- 
not a man of good courage succeed as well 
at the present day in such an adventure as 
formerly ? Many a knight can still boast of 
courage and strength, like that of the days 
of the Hohenstaufen, even as long before 
their time manly virtues were well known. 



Sclrwarzenberg and the Bull. 359 

Throw yourselves back into the age of fable-, 
and think of Theseus and Hercules, and let 
it not be forgotten that Schwarzenberg has 
twenty times already carried away the prize 
in the tournament. If one time has the ad- 
vantage over another, it is our own, when 
Frederick's magnanimous son bears the scep- 
tre. Who has not heard of the labours of 
Hercules ? I will shew you what he did with 
the Cretan bull." He spoke, and swift as an 
arrow had leapt over the enclosure, and was 
exciting the rage of the bull, wildly butting 
on every side. He tore the cord in two like 
a rotten thread, seized the powerful animal 
by the horns, pressed it down, so that it 
groaned, and, as I saw with my own eyes, 
lifted it up, and then flung it again on the 
ground. Max was not wanting in his praise. 
The enclosure, and the exhaustion of the 
animal, which now stared straight before it 
quite faint, protected us against every danger. 
But Schwarzenberg was quite hearty, the 
exertion had done him no harm. We left 
the sunny bastion, and returned to the cas- 



360 Norica. 

tie-yard, where a very old lime-tree, perhaps 
the largest in the world, spread a refresh- 
ing shade. The Emperor Maximilian betook 
himself to his apartment, and promised at 
the appointed time to appear in the audience- 
chamber. Here were already waiting all the 
members of the Council, and those who had 
joined them, while D'rirer, pining with impa- 
tience, was constantly running up and down 
the steps. For he had, at the emperor's 
command, as I afterwards learned, arranged 
every thing for the coronation of the poet, 
with admirable taste, and fitted to surprise, 
not only the Herr Pirckheimer, but even the 
emperor and myself. And now he saw all 
his labour thrown away. He was already 
intending, though it would have excited sur- 
prise, to send a special summons to the dila- 
tory councillor, when at length he appeared 
walking slowly and thoughtfully. He sus- 
pected nothing of the happiness which was 
in preparation for him, for he entered the 
hall with a countenance almost sullen. 

The Recorder Spengler, who had shortened 



Pirckheimer 9 s Disquietude. 361 

the tediousness of waiting by many a joke, 
approached him with the words: "Well, 
how does your wisdom ?" " My wisdom has 
run aground, and every thing which I have 
laboriously built is wrecked/* answered 
Pirckheimer gravely. " You know how 
zealously I have occupied myself with as- 
trology, and have striven to learn from the 
planets the fortunes of the whole human 
race and of individual friends. I thought 
by my searchings to have obtained the key 
by which to read the language of the stars. 
All was a dream !" Pirckheimer was asked 
to explain himself more clearly, how he came 
to the conviction of this self-deception, as so 
much had turned out exactly correspondent 
to his predictions. " It is a pleasure to me," 
he continued, Cf to cast the nativity of those 
who are dear to my heart. To-day I ques- 
tioned the stars what fate had decided re- 
specting my youngest daughter. You know 
that my daughter Charitas long since took the 
veil. And now the answer was that to-day 
she would tie the nuptial knot ! Thus I have 



362 Norica. 

long lived the fool of my imagination ; and 
now that I stand on the brink of the grave, 
I know that I know nothing." " Yes/' cried 
Herr Spengler; "why should your daugh- 
ter the nun not marry ? Were she not 
living on the Danube, I would to-day carry 
her off from her convent. But, Herr Pirck- 
heimer, Herr Pirckheimer, you would learn 
the fate of your youngest daughter ; and 
your youngest children are those whom you 
have had after the death of your wife ! " 
All smiled, but Pirckheimer remained si- 
lent. 

Suddenly the sound of kettle-drums and 
trumpets was heard ; the folding-doors were 
thrown open; and the Emperor Maximilian 
in a scarlet mantle, on which glittered a gold 
chain, entered with a gracious countenance, 
followed by a retinue splendidly attired. 
Those assembled formed themselves imme- 
diately into a compact half-circle round the 
emperor. The astonished Pirckheimer would 
have entered among them ; but, on one hand, 
Albrecht Diirer pushed him back into the 



The Rosenihalerin. 



363 



midst ; on the other, Herr Imhoff, with a 
smile, closed the entrance against him ; and 
there again Herr Volckamer signified to him 
that there was no more room. I was really 
sorry for the poor man, as he walked up and 
down embarrassed and vexed. 

In the meantime a side-door opened. 
The noise of the kettle-drums ceased, and to 
the soft notes of flutes and harps a maiden 
entered, followed by the sons of the most 
distinguished families, who made music like 
angels. They were beautifully dressed ; but 
what shall I say of the maiden? Bashfully she 
cast down her eyes; and her fair locks, which 
were bound upon her forehead by a chaplet 
of roses, flowed clown from the crown of her 
head over her shoulders. Was it the holy 
Rosalia ? Xo ; it was the Rosenthalerin, who 
to-day appeared to my eyes more beautiful 
than ever. She was dressed in white, and a 
rose-coloured scarf heightened the dazzling 
brightness of her complexion. Modestly she 
carried in both hands a white cushion, on 
which rested a laurel-crown. Pirckheimer 



364 Norica. 

observed her with deep-felt emotion ; for the 
crown took away from him all doubt as to 
the cause of her appearance. The emperor 
could not take off his eyes from the form of 
maiden beauty ; and I stood and gazed, quite 
dissolved in longing. She now bent before 
the emperor, and he took the crown. Then 
she laid the cushion before Pirckheimer, 
and he knelt upon it with tears in his eyes. 
Every friend he had wept with him. 

Then the emperor said some gracious 
words, to the effect that he crowned Wili- 
bald Pirckheimer with laurel on the spot 
where his father had first conferred this 
same honour on the renowned Celtes. Pirck- 
heimer, although overcome with emotion, 
made a well-composed reply in Latin, which 
every one unacquainted with his festival- 
poem would have thought sufficient to de- 
serve the crown. 

The ceremony was not yet at an end ; for 
now the emperor graciously turned to the 
Rosenthalerin, and kissed her on the fore- 
head, and gave her permission to ask a favour. 






Acknowledged by Pirckheimer. 365 

Behold, there lay the maiden at the feet of 
the emperor, and with touching eloquence 
entreated a support for her foster-father. By 
means of his art, she urged imploringly, he 
had glorified Niirnb erg, which was the bright- 
est jewel in the imperial crown; and now, 
having lost his eye-sight in too eager a pur- 
suit after fame, he was suffering want. " Who 
is thy foster-father, fair child? and who is 
thy father ?" asked the emperor, with sym- 
pathy. Then Herr Pirckheimer came for- 
ward in a free and noble spirit, and said : 
t€ Her foster-father is Master Yeit Stoss, the 
carver ; her father stands before your ma- 
jesty. Up to this time has the maiden been 
called Eosenthalerin, after her mother ; to- 
day I own her as my rightful daughter. Let 
her bear the name of Maria Pirckheimer. 
She shall share my inheritance equally with 
my other children." Then Durer, who stood 
in front, began ; and * * * 

Here unfortunately some leaves of the 
manuscript are wanting; and there are not 
even indications extant of what they con- 



3 66 



Norica. 



tained, that the editor, as Freinsheim on 
another occasion,* might carry honey into 
dry cells. From conjectures and inferences, 
it seems probable, that, in what followed, 
was related, how the Emperor Max pen- 
sioned and honoured the old Veit Stoss; 
how, in his presence, through Diirer's me- 
diation, the maiden found a bridegroom in 
Jacob Heller; how the marriage was cele- 
brated in Niirnberg, and the young couple 
then proceeded to Frankfurt. Here Maria 
Hellerin had already died before the drawing 
up of the manuscript, and had left behind 
her a son, TTilibald. 

In the manuscript, after the blank, follows 
a letter of Pirckheimer, with a postscript by 
the author. 



* A celebrated Latinist, who supplied the wanting de- 
cades of Livy. 






cr^z rr^ ^vz> s^rz ^ - ^ r~- -^ :rr^ ^v^ ctt^ :t^ ^r^ ^r^ ^^> 

Z^O ^^v^ Cl^ tl_J ^Iw Z^S Z.S Z^S Z^ ZA-£> z^p z^o z.^d zao 



c7¥v> <t¥^ ^¥v> ^¥^> oirb J^ ctyz> cf^^^z^crfoc^sT^crfoo 




CONCLUSION. 




LETTER FROM PIRCKHEIMER, AND POSTSCRIPT BY 
THE AUTHOR. 

pN the first place, my kindest ser- 
vice to you, my dear Herr Hel- 
ler. Forgive me, that I have not 
until now thanked you for your 
letter, which I received last month, and in 
which you not only remember me with kind- 
ness, but give me more praise and honour 
than I think myself worthy of. For your 
good opinion of me, I have, doubtless, to 
thank our mutual friend, Albrecht Diirer, 
whom for his art and his virtues you so loved, 
that even those connected with him are dear 
to you. So much the more melancholy is it for 
me to inform you, that our friend peacefully 
departed on Good Friday, the 6th of April,* 



The 18th of April, according to our present calendar. 



368 Nor tea. 



of this year, in the 57th year of his age. On 
the evening of the following day, by the pale 
moonlight, he was conveyed to his place of 
rest in the cemetery of St. John, by some 
artists, in solemn stillness, broken only by 
the lamentations of those who loved him. 
His fellow-artists have lost their exemplar ; 
his friends, their pride; the city, its glory. 
Individual artists, who were equal to him in 
a single department, may be found; but none 
such as possess his manifold gifts. An im- 
pression in wax preserves the features of the 
deceased, which are as benignant as those of 
the living man. I have truly lost in Albrecht 
one of the best friends I had on earth, and 
nothing troubles me so much as that he should 
have had so melancholy an end. Next to the 
will of God, I can impute it to no one more 
than to his wife, whose unkindness gnawed at 
his heart so painfully, that it greatly hastened 
his departure. Like the mourners in olden 
times, he had himself long since cut off his 
flowing hair, for every joy had fled: he had 
become pallid, and dwindled away to a sha- 






Durer's Death. 



369 



dow. Never did he venture to enjoy himself, 
and visit his friends ; so careful was this vixen 
of a wife lest he should be too happy. Day 
and night she pitilessly kept him to his work, 
to get money for her, and then as now she 
was always expecting to be ruined, although 
Albrecht has left her to the amount of six 
thousand gulden. But there is no satisfying 
her; and, in short, she is the cause of his 
early death. Often have I remonstrated with 
her, on her harsh, suspicious temper, and 
prophetically warned her of what the end 
would be ; but I- have earned nothing but 
ingratitude from her. Any man who was 
kind to him, and was much with him, she 
regarded with an evil eye ; and the deepest 
sorrow preyed upon Albrecht, till at length 
it brought him to his grave. She has not a 
particle of trust; and he who will not admit 
that she is right in every thing, is an object 
of her suspicion. Better to have a wife of 
light character, than one who, with a repu- 
tation for honour, leaves her husband no 
rest or peace, night or day, by her scolding 



B B 



37 o Norica. 



and her worrying suspicion. But he has de- 
parted; and nothing remains but to commend 
the case to God. He will be merciful to the 
pious Albrecht, who has lived a truly honour- 
able life, and died the blessed death of a 
Christian. May He grant me too the favour 
soon to follow my friend.* 

There is much talk here of the horrible 
deeds of the Turks, and of the misery arising 
from our rulers and princes being divided 
among themselves. Woe to them who could 
give aid, and yet look inactive on the cause ! 
But these are chastisements from God, for the 
sin of Christians living at enmity with one an- 
other. The manner in which our evangelical 
heroes of the faith oppose each other in the 



*Wilibald Pirckheimer died two years later, in 1530; 
and in the same year, old Peter Vischer departed this life. 
Vischer's sons died in middle life : the eldest son, Hermann, 
first. By the side of his fraternal friend, the painter Wolf 
Traut, he was run over by a sledge, and received a mortal 
injury. The coppersmith Sebastian Lindenast had already 
departed in 1520. The blind Veit Stoss lived till the year 
1542. 



Influence of Protestantism. 371 



field, is quite horrible ; and how widely at 
variance are the words and the works of 
Lutherans ! I was in the beginning quite 
disposed to Lutheranism, and so was our 
Albrecht; for we thought that the Romish 
knavery, and the villany of the monks and 
priests, ought to be put an end to. But the 
Evangelical knaves make a still worse busi- 
ness of it. The Papists, after all, are at least 
at unity among themselves ; but they who 
call themselves Evangelical are at the height 
of enmity with one another. We all con- 
sidered Luther as a man enlightened by the 
Holy Spirit to establish a true Christian faith. 
w O God, is Luther dead ?" Albrecht Durer 
once wrote to me, when, some years ago, the 
report came that he had been murdered; 
"who will henceforward so distinctly explain 
to us the holy gospel as he did, who wrote 
more clearly than any before him ? Pious 
Christians ! help me to bewail as I ought the 
God-inspired man, and to put up a prayer, 
that the Spirit may enlighten others as it 
enlightened him. O Erasmus of Rotterdam, 



37 2 Norica. 



where art thou!" Friend Albrecht afterwards 
acknowledged, with bitter sorrow, that he had 
been deceived in Erasmus. 

My letter will appear strange to you, who 
know nothing in your parts of religious agi- 
tations, which change every thing, but im- 
prove nothing. All faith is trodden under 
foot, and no one is sure of his life and pro- 
perty. We are exceedingly ready with ser- 
mons and words, but works are not so quick 
in forthcoming. Yet I will not complain 
to you ; but conclude with the consolatory 
words which Luther once uttered, that "mat- 
ters are settled very differently in heaven 
and in Nurnberg." 

WlLIBALD PlECKHEIMER. 

Nurnberg, in the month of April, 1528.'" 

An accompanying sheet contains a Latin 
elegy of Pirckheimer's on the death of his 
friend, and the inscription which he wrote 
for the grave, where Diirer was interred by 
the side of his father-in-law, Hans Frey. It 
was as follows : 



Diirer's Epitaph. 373 

me[morij;] al[berti] du[reri]. quicquid al- 

BERTI DURERI MORTALE FUIT SUB HOC CONDI- 
TUR TUMULO. EMIGRAVIT VIII. IDTJS APRILIS 
MDXXVIII. 



ay 

(In memory of Albert Dlirer. Albert Diirer's mortal 
remains rest underneath this monument. He departed on 
the 6th of April, 1528.) 

I read the letter, but it was long before I 
had finished it, for a flood of tears prevented 
me. He is, then, passed away, and the bless- 
ings of peace with him, which once made 
Niirnberg glorious above all cities. Shall 
the ancient saying be verified, that some day 
a wagoner shall drive over it, and cracking 
his whip, say, Here stood Niirnberg ! No — 
may merciful Heaven forbid it! The reli- 
gious feuds which destroy the arts, as storms 
the tender flowers, will spend their rage, and 
not carry every thing away in their whirl- 
wind. Though centuries should elapse before 
the guilt of the present be expiated, memory 
will one day revert anew to earlier glory, 



374 Norica. 



and recal the names of illustrious artists, 
adorning, like a crown of stars, the city whose 
greatest pride was Albert Durer, the 
German Apelles. 




LONDON : 

PRINTED BY ROBSON, LEVEY, AND FRAKKLYN, 

Great New Street, Fetter Lane. 



THE ARTIST'S MARRIED LIFE: being that 
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LONDON; JOHN CHAPMAN, 142 STRAND. 









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